


Synergy

by Fen_Assan



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Loss, Love, Other, Post-Mass Effect 3, Romance, Shakarian - Freeform, Synthesis Ending, fluff in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2018-09-21 16:30:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9557222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fen_Assan/pseuds/Fen_Assan
Summary: Together, Jane Shepard and Garrus Vakarian made a perfect team - a whole even greater than its parts. Until she left to activate the Crucible alone.The story of what happened after "the end".





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a multichapter project I had to start after completing the ME trilogy for the first time, because I just have too many feels, people, ok? :) Although I have many ideas and a few outlined plans, I'm not yet entirely sure what will happen - or rather how I'll get to where I want it to be. It will be a bumpy ride - but I promise a happy ending, and will welcome anyone who wants to join me in this. Also, I'm not here to advocate Synthesis as the best ending, it is simply the one I want to explore in this fic.

He could have been obliterated by the Harbinger’s laser beam, instead - he was left singed by an exploding Mako. Singed, broken, and blue all over - his blood’s colour only fitting on his armour. 

Garrus squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, drew a breath, and tried to get up.

“Don't you move, Vakarian,” Dr. Chakwas barked an order, casting an angry side glance at him as she busied herself with Tali, who - judging by the state of her suit - must have been in dire condition.

Liara was in the med bay too, and she rushed from Tali to Garrus to push him down and tell him to lie still. She looked panicked and lost. As if she did not really know what she was doing. But when he attempted to rise again, he felt the tingling of the mass effect field surrounding him, pressing him down. The asari glowed blue, holding it. He groaned and ceased fighting against her biotic power. For now.

He did not care that the med staff were unable to deal with his injuries now - Tali had to be helped first, the risks for her were way higher. He only cared that he was here, in Normandy’s sick bay, while Shepard was making her way to the Citadel, possibly even approaching her final moments - alone. 

They had promised to be together in this - until the end. And they were not. 

Someone was checking him up - some crew member, one of Dr. Chakwas’ assistants. He paid half the mind to what they were saying about the severity of his wounds. He could stand. He could fight. How could he have let her go alone? 

Through the blur in his vision and the haze and the buzz in his head - concussion, he heard someone say - he became aware of increased commotion. Someone came asking for Dr. T’Soni, and Liara left. There were frightened eyes. Shocked eyes. Hurried whispers. Something was going on - there had clearly been some development. He had to know. He pushed the human assistant away, disconnecting the link with his omni-tool, and started limping towards the door. 

“Garrus!” Probably for the first time ever, he heard Dr. Chakwas’ voice sound anguished as she ran to close the distance between them and grabbed at his arm. He looked her in the eyes and shook her off. She did not try to stop him again. 

There were people running, to their positions or from, as he barely made his way to the bridge. He heard gasps as he dragged himself past them, not stopping for anything or anyone, not even making sure to breathe. Breathing seemed irrelevant. 

He heard the shouting even before he punched the door to the cockpit open, clasping at the right side of his chest - he seemed to be bleeding again. 

“No!” the pilot yelled - it was unclear if he was addressing anyone in particular. 

“I repeat,” Admiral Hackett’s voice ordered on the radio, “disengage and get the hell out of here!” 

“Joker, we have to go!” Liara insisted, obviously not for the first time, squeezing Joker’s shoulder with her hand. The man shook her off, his eyes following the flow of his hands on the Normandy’s controls. Garrus scrambled over to stand behind Joker, sinking his fingers into the pilot’s seat. 

“We can't! She's in there!” Garrus did not recognise his own voice, but it was him saying the words - the insane, raw, tearing at his throat - and his heart - words. 

“The Crucible is armed! We have to go!” Liara almost keened. He looked at her, and did not care for the sorrow in her eyes. 

“No,” he said quietly. 

Through the windshield, they saw the birth of a flare as the arms of the Citadel opened up, the Crucible docked at its very centre. With all his broken bones, Garrus still felt the pain when his hands squeezed into tight fists, and when he caught a glimpse of water glinting on Joker’s cheek as he started the manoeuvre after all. 

“No!” He would grab him. He would stop him. Stop them all from leaving, from abandoning _her_. But he was afloat. Pinned to nothing in mid-air, yet unmoving, with Liara holding the biotic field around him with shaking hands. How did she dare cry?

Suspended - as if not only in space but in time - he watched the glow of the weird green energy wave emanating from the Citadel, from what was the Citadel, until they turned to escape from it. 

He was not dropped but lowered to the floor gently, Liara kneeling in front of him, choking back tears. 

“Come on, Garrus. We need to fix you up,” she whispered breathily. 

“Don't touch me,” he said. And it must have sounded like he meant it, because she drew back with a gasp. He spared her not even the briefest look and left, grasping at anything on his way not to fall down. There was no destination, no objective, no goal. He just could not stop now. Not stop. Never stop. She never stopped. She was a force in and of herself. His heart ached as if squeezed in an iron fist. She could not be gone. Not forever.

As he passed the airlock, a thought drifted into his mind to just prise it open, to vanish. He could not help her anymore. So what was the point of him? 

But he kept going, to the elevator, to the topmost deck, without thinking anymore. Her aquarium. The transparent jellyfish she had got last - she loved those. So elegant, she had said, so unlike herself. It was not true. There was an elegance in her. Of an unorthodox, weird kind perhaps, raw, and tough, but it was there. Or no longer. 

He slumped to the floor in the middle of the captain’s cabin, and caught sight of a piece of fabric by his knees. It was her shirt - the one she had worn the night before, when he had held her in his arms after a bad dream. 

It seemed like everything he could do now was breathe. And even that was a struggle. He traced the movement of the fish in the aquarium, blinking less and less, until his eyes felt too dry. They stung. And then he could not see well anymore. A blur. Someone's scream - a howl. A jolt - the familiar kind, the FTL jump. His back hitting the floor. Stars in the window above, swimming by, just like when Shepard and he had been lying there staring up, their heads touching, their bodies a tangle of limbs. 

The stars were no longer the same. The shockwave from the firing Crucible was painting a green sheen across them. 

“Brace for impact!” Joker’s voice on the intercom. 

Shaking and rattling. Garrus held on to the floor with his fingers, otherwise unmoved. A thrust. As his head was hit again and everything swam green in front of his eyes, before he lost consciousness, he was calm. 

A crash then. So be it. At least she would not wait for him at the bar for long.


	2. Chapter 2

With a gasp, Garrus became aware of the rise and fall of his chest, of his heartbeat turning from steady to a bit erratic, and of his headache - a considerably weaker one than before. Now the pain was dull, and it tugged at the right side of his skull, making it heavy, and sending ripples of pain all across the back of his head under his crest. He took a controlled slow breath before opening his eyes, and hissed the air out. 

Looking was a risk. He knew what he hoped to find wherever he was - right now he only knew he was lying on a flat, fairly comfortable surface that provided enough support for his carapace - or rather _whom_ he hoped to find. He did not care for heaven - he doubted in fact either of them qualified for entry - but if they were both dead, he was certain they would find a way. She would be there: waiting for him at the counter, flashing him a smile over the rim of her glass, blinking a copper red strand of hair from her warm green eyes. While if he was not dead… 

His eyes snapped open. There was no sense delaying it: delaying the moment he would learn that he still lived. He gasped - to his utter shame and despair - in regret. Just a syncope then. It was not fair. 

He wanted to rub his hands across his face, to wipe off this misery and defeat - unworthy of her - and he could not. He yanked his arms up and tried to sit up, but in vain. He breathed, focused, pushing back the ungainly signs of rising panic. When he opened his eyes again for a closer inspection, he realised he was lying under a regen field on a cot in the Normandy’s med bay, but it was not what restricted his movement: his arms and legs were restrained, strapped to the bed - likely for his own protection. Or…?

“What the…” he mouthed a curse at the sight of his ungauntleted hands. There were strange green patterns showing through his skin, as if from below the surface. If he did not know better, he would have said they looked like circuitry. He stuck to breathing evenly, and raised his head as much as the restraints allowed to see if there was anyone else there. On the hospital bed to the far left in the same row as himself there lay a slight frame clad in a black-and-purple quarian suit. 

“Tali,” he called, his hoarse voice scraping against his dry throat. He swallowed nervously and tried again, louder. “Tali!” He could see a regen shield over her as well, but could not make out any restraints holding her down. He sighed in relief when she stirred, groaning. “Tali?” he prompted softly.

“Garrus?” It took her a long moment to sit up and take stock of the situation. “What’s happening?” 

“Can you walk? Can you release me?” He made an attempt at moving his limbs to demonstrate his predicament. 

“Who did this to you? Why?” Tali was up on her feet the next moment, only swaying a little before taking her first step. 

“I don't know. Dr. Chakwas? Probably to keep me safe.” 

The quarian girl swiped her deft fingers over the medical console, shutting off the regen shield and releasing the straps. 

“What happened?” She looked at his ruined armour - this time it might have looked even worse than after Omega… 

Finally free, Garrus got to his feet but was forced to take a seat gripping the edge of the bed to stop everything from swimming before his eyes. He could finally rub at his face plates: releasing some tension or hiding for a moment - was anyone's guess. 

“You ok?” Tali asked with concern. Garrus only sighed by way of an answer. 

“The Crucible fired,” he chose to address her previous question instead, “and we’ve apparently... escaped.”

“And Shepard?” Tali asked immediately, not showing any sign of relief at learning their goal had been achieved after all. He could not find it in himself to answer. And what could he say? That Shepard, his Shepard, had most likely been there when the Citadel exploded? That, taking into account the shockwave which had caught up with the Normandy, he did not believe much of the structure could have survived the blast? That the woman he loved more than anyone ever had sacrificed herself for the sake of them all? That he was unwilling to accept that sacrifice of hers? What the hell could he say?

To her credit, Tali did not push him to say anything for a while. Still avoiding to face her, he could only hear her fast, shallow breathing - but she managed to stay in control. 

“You don't know it, Garrus,” she said finally. “She’s been up against terrible odds many times, and she's always come back. She even died once and returned.” He cringed. _What were the chances it could happen again?_ he thought. There was no Cerberus this time to pick up whatever was left of her entirely dead body and put it back together piece by piece. “Garrus!” He felt the quarian’s hands grip his arm and give him an angry shake. “Don't you give up! Shepard never gave up! We’ll go back and we'll find her!” This was her Admiral’s voice. He looked at the luminous dots of Tali’s eyes behind her helm’s visor. She really seemed convinced. What if?.. What if he was so used to expecting the worst he really had given up too quickly? Had he given up? He stood there, quiet, but his hands balled into fists, and he nodded. “Where are we?” Tali asked, straight to business. 

“No idea,” he shook his head. “Let’s find the others.” He was finally able to shake off the despair which threatened to enwrap him in lethargy. “I’ll just grab some painkillers.” As Tali nodded and shifted her attention to her omni-tool, he realised he had never asked if she was ok, but the words stuck in his throat. He groaned stabbing a syringe into his neck. “Let’s go.”

The crew deck was empty, or rather devoid of any crew, as present signs of the crash were numerous enough. 

“Keelah,” Tali whispered. 

The elevator did not respond, but instead of hacking to coax it to life, Garrus prised open a small hatch and the two of them headed down, gripping thin, smooth metal bars. 

Both had an intimate knowledge of the Normandy's “guts” - Tali as an ever keen engineer, and himself as someone whose main responsibility was the main battery, but who wanted to make sure he knew how every bit of the ship worked. Not just because it was originally a masterpiece of joint turian-human engineering, but because Normandy carried those on board he honestly cared about. 

They made a quick stop on the engineering deck, and were puzzled to see it empty: neither Adams, nor Gabby and Kenneth - the couple who rarely left their posts at all, with the exception of poker nights - were about. The Normandy's core though kept humming. Garrus sighed with some relief as Tali engaged the console to check the current state of the ship before he even noticed. Not everything was lost at least. 

“Come, Tali. We’ll get back to her once we've found the others.” As he approached the square hatch in the floor, a sudden thought grasped him with icy claws: what if they were the only ones who had survived? He shook it off as unlikely. Still, where were all the others? 

He heard the clank of Tali’s feet and hands on the bars as she caught up with him down in the cargo bay. There was no sign of anyone there either, but the large doors which normally let the shuttle out stood open, flooding the room with light. 

Sunlight. 

Garrus’ heart pumped his blood in a jolt as he neared the exit, grabbing a Mantis off the workbench on his way. He heard Tali pick up a weapon too. 

They did it in the form of a familiar routine: each on one side of the opening, weapons drawn, omni-tools primed to overload a possible hostile. Tali cocked her head inquisitively, but he shook his: her drone might attract unnecessary attention now. He lifted a finger, met her nod with one of his own, and they were out. 

Blinded. This unknown local sun was at its peak, requiring time for his eyes to adjust to the luminosity, to the flashes that danced before his eyes, catching the reflections off every bit of his armour. As pain streamed from his eyes to the right and the back of his head, Garrus remembered he had had a concussion. It must have been more serious than he thought. _Should have taken a larger dose of painkillers_ , he grunted.

But the sunshine seemed to be the most hostile element they would meet, and even that was apparently mild enough once one adjusted to it. 

“The levels of radiation are within the medium spectrum. No need for a helmet even,” Tali announced, swiping over her omni-tool, “for you at least.” Good. Seeing he was not wearing one anyway. 

Garrus lowered the rifle but kept it in his hands as he walked a short distance away from the wreckage. It did not look that bad. Not really a proper wreckage. 

“Garrus, what is this place?” Tali left her omni-tool alone for once. “I can't get enough readings.” They looked about, turning on the spot. 

For as far as the eye could see, they were surrounded by greenery - lush, abundant, familiar-looking. His visor confirmed what he could feel with the skin and plates of his bare face and neck - the air was very warm and humid. 

“A garden world, definitely.” He looked at the tall trees interlaced by heavily hanging vines, the rich underbrush, and listened to make out vague chirping and screeching which could be suggestive of organic wildlife. “Seems like a jungle of sorts.” 

“Over there,” Tali gestured at their four o’clock, “looks like a trail.” Garrus nodded, and both started towards the bent and crushed - definitely walked upon - patch of undergrowth. He had to push away some brunches and hold them overhead to let Tali pass before he ducked through the trees after her. Seeing how obstructed the path was - in fact it could not be defined as such at all, being merely the tracks left by the previous walkers - Garrus pushed to take point. He explained to Tali, who was considerably less familiar with moving through a heavily forested area, to fall back behind him enough to avoid being whipped by the branches displaced by his movement. 

They heard the others before they reached them: there were voices, hushed and humbled by the rush of water. When the trees finally gave way to a clearing, Garrus saw the source of the sound: long, thin threads of a waterfall snaking down a smooth rock face and into a peaceful natural lake. On the shore there were those he had shared his life with for various lengths of recent time: he recognised the technicians, the marines, the engineers, the squad members. Shepard's squad - without her at the head. He felt Tali squeeze his elbow. He had apparently stalled for long enough for her to realise he was not having the best of moments. 

He nodded in what he hoped she read as appreciation, and headed towards the group. They were quickly noticed, and the attention - eventually every single person turning to look at them - made Garrus’ stomach churn. Some faces were happy - to see them? - some sad. The latter looked away from Garrus, avoided meeting his gaze. Javik was the first to make eye contact, with all four of his eyes: the prothean gave him a look which could have been interpreted as impassive at first, but nodded with dignity and respect and recognition. Garrus swallowed hard and nodded back curtly. 

He was too focused on trying to push back the thoughts of _Shepard - spirits - Shepard_ before they spilt in open demonstration of his sorrow and guilt and pain, to check properly who exactly was present. Or in other words - whom they had lost. His gaze roamed from face to face and back under his feet as they approached a group of people, Tali giving him a final squeeze of his arm unnoticed by others before she was enwrapped into a too emotionally charged hug from Liara. Garrus noticed the other woman’s anguished look at him as she held Tali, but he turned and went the opposite way on purpose. He knew it was childish - and emotional, too - to avoid the asari, but he could not help himself. It had had to be done, but it had been her who had immobilised him and given Joker the final order to leave the Citadel. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second. 

“Garrus, how’re you feeling? I’m sorry I wasn't there when you woke up,” Dr. Chakwas greeted him, her usually stern face contorting for a moment. He noticed that she, just like everyone else, had the mysterious web of greenish circuitry spreading under her skin: it became visible when her face turned at a certain angle. “You were very agitated and kept undoing the effects of the regen shield.” It was as much an apology for strapping him to the cot as he was going to get from her, but it suited him just fine. 

“Thanks, Doctor,” he nodded. 

Garrus realised he was not himself by the so untypical of him desire not to keep looking at people - he had never been uncomfortable with direct eye contact before. He walked on, answering to greetings, questions, and remarks with silent nods, scanning the crowd without much purpose. He was stopped by something else he was less than keen on now - physical contact. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder from behind. 

“Glad you made it, Scars.” Vega’s face was somber but friendly as he extended his hand. 

_Not sure I am_ , Garrus thought, but aloud he said “Yeah.” The handshake seemed to be enough for James, who moved to talk to someone else, and Garrus was grateful for that. It was only during the handshake that he realised he was still holding the rifle. He stowed it away on his back, and, lifting his head, caught a glimpse of someone else's intimate moment: EDI and Joker clinging to each other in a hug. When they separated he could see their profiles, Joker smiling a big happy smile. Garrus decided it must have been his own grief talking, his own pained imagination and the emptiness by his side left by Shepard, when he thought he saw EDI smile back. He knew the scope of EDI’s abilities, and what he admired about her was her sense of humour rather than intelligence - which in truth was more of a processing power. Even as advanced as she was, she was still incapable of true emotions that were the boon and doom of organics. She could not smile. And yet she did. Garrus could not find it in himself to look at the happy couple. He was not angry with them. But he was jealous. And that was an ugly, alien feeling. 

For a moment, he did not know what to do, as those he needed to speak to most happened to be the ones he was unable to face right now. He almost panicked, and that scared him - he had been experiencing its paralysing grip too often lately, and he vowed to never get used to it. He turned and strode purposefully towards James, intending to catch him in between his short conversations with different crew members. 

“Vega,” he called. The man turned. “Got a minute? How’s the situation here?” James looked at Garrus for a long moment, as if wondering why he had been chosen for the sitrep. Eventually, as he rolled his burly shoulders, he must have caught a glimpse of the couple behind Garrus, and seemed to know why. A brief grimace crossed his face. 

“We crash landed about two hours ago. Spent the time taking stock of the losses,” he swallowed at that and avoided Garrus’ eyes. “Both the people and the ship. Not many casualties.” He looked up. “We lost Steve. Back on Earth.” Garrus felt his jaws open and shut. So caught up in his own grief he did not realise - did not even consider asking… 

“I’m sorry,” he said, unsure if he should place a hand on the human’s shoulder, and in indecision remaining still. “I know you two were close friends.”

“Yeah,” James nodded, visibly taking care not to show the emotion which was undoubtedly there. “I’m sorry too.” The marine looked him in the eyes. It was clear what he meant. He was sorry Shepard was not there among them. Garrus was sure they all felt her absence acutely, and it was petty to compare losses, but to him she was and meant more than to anyone else. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, his undertones making his voice sound thick. 

“You and Tali were hurt pretty bad, so Doc did her magics on you while we did a sweep of the Normandy and the landing site. We didn't get far,” he shrugged, spreading his arms to point out their surroundings. “Got too caught up in figuring out what's going on.”

Garrus wanted to ask what he meant, but just his confused look was enough to make James explain. 

“Some got panicky about this,” he pointed at his eyes and turned his bare arm at different angles, catching the one which let the green markings show. “Some got a bit aggressive towards EDI.”

“What?” Garrus could not believe it. 

“They wanted answers she doesn’t have yet. I think she’s a bit… overwhelmed.” Garrus’ brow plates lifted in question.

“I mean I don't know shit about whatever happened, and how we all got this,” he flicked his fingers at his other arm in irritation, “or what this even is. But look at her face. In these couple of hours I saw EDI smile. And saw her sad. Like a real sad face, like a human. No offense,” he added as if remembering who he was talking to. Garrus just shook his head dismissively. This was strange. But it was impossible to bring this problem to the forefront of his mind at this moment. All his thoughts were occupied by Shepard. 

“Do you know anything about the Citadel?” he asked weakly. Before James could answer though, he heard soft steps behind him, but did not turn. 

“Garrus,” EDI’s voice was full of genuine sorrow as she rested a tentative hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry. It was likely largely destroyed in the blast, leaving Shepard with extremely low chances of survival.” _Likely? Extremely low?_ This was not EDI’s way to describe probability. It was too vague, too comforting, too… human. It somehow felt more disturbing. 

“I… do you know anything for sure? Has Hackett been on the comms? Earth? Anyone?” He might have been clutching at straws. Or refusing to believe Shepard was dead and gone forever until he was proven otherwise. Or simply hoping. EDI shook her head, her eyebrows knit together in a doleful expression. “So we find out,” be managed, swallowing the lump in his throat. “What’s the estimate on how fast the Normandy can be repaired?” She suddenly looked taken aback. 

“I… I didn't focus on that.” He be damned if she did not sound ashamed. “I tried to gather data on the new developments…” she faltered. Garrus thought that either he was going mad, or something extremely significant had happened to EDI. Likely to all of them in fact, but the changes seemed most prominent, or just most easily visible - the green markings aside - on her. 

“Can you explain any of that yet?” Garrus tried not to sound harsh - it took immense effort. 

“Not much. I have a theory, but I need more data to validate it. I’d like to collect samples of everyone's DNA.”

“Do it. And do the estimate of repairs. ASAP. I’ll help in all and any way I can.” As Garrus rubbed at his eyes, closing them for a moment, he realised he had effectively given her an order. Had he just subconsciously assumed command of the Normandy? No. That was not something he would ever do. “Please, EDI,” he added, and his gaze momentarily switched from her to Joker who now silently stood by her side with a sheepish expression on his face, “I need to know.” She nodded emphatically and squeezed his forearm in what was an attempt at reassurance. 

“Do you think she could be alive?” Joker asked quietly, his voice full of remorse and guilt. 

“I don't know,” Garrus shook his head. “But it's not your fault.” Joker's face twitched as if Garrus had struck him. 

“If she's alive,” the pilot said, visibly struggling with emotion, “and man, if someone is a survivor than it’s definitely Shepard - we’ll find her. I promise.” This was all amounting to be too much, and Garrus just nodded and turned away fighting the urge to leave at a run - to be alone, to not talk to people, not witness their loss and confusion and see his own - multiplied and made even heavier - reflected in their faces. 

All in all, it was the wrong moment for Kaidan to include himself into the conversation.

“EDI? You learnt anything new about _this_?” he gestured at his own arms and face in obvious distaste. 

“I will start collecting samples of everyone's DNA as soon as I’ve estimated the scope of the Normandy's damage and the time frame for the necessary repairs,” she answered calmly. 

“Don't you think it's more important to find out what the hell's going on with us?” He was obviously on edge: so much so that his biotics flared, wrapping his palms in a blue haze. 

“I believe,” EDI only doubted for a millisecond, “both are equally important. But I also believe we are not in any immediate danger. This world is not hostile to all present life forms, and we have enough supplies to last at least…” 

“Look,” the man started dangerously, pointing a finger at EDI, and Joker reacted immediately by inserting himself between them. Kaidan paid him no mind. “I, and your _boyfriend_ here, and everyone else, have some techno shit in us. Shit that looks like fucking wires. Which we didn’t have before that blast. And I don't care for not knowing what the fuck’s been done to us. If we all just gonna explode at some point. Or start attacking each other. I must know what this is.” 

“Lay off, Alenko,” Joker pushed the biotic ever so slightly away. “EDI will do what she can. Your whining isn't gonna speed up the process.” Kaidan's face contorted into a mask of derision.

“The fact that we’re crashed in the middle of nowhere doesn't cancel out the subordination, Moreau. Don't forget you're talking to an outranking officer.”

“Fuck off,” Joker said, looking like he was ready for a fight, although - at least physically - he definitely was not. 

“That’s enough,” Garrus finally stepped in, cringing internally from the headache and the added weight of having to deal with this on top of everything. 

“Look, Vakarian, I’m sorry for your loss, but it's not your place to interfere. You aren't a favourite anymore.” Joker, EDI, and himself all froze. It was such a notoriously ridiculous - not minding the insensitive - thing to say, Garrus could not believe the words had really left Kaidan’s lips. Apparently, the same realisation sunk into the human’s head as well. “Sorry,” he said gruffly, not looking Garrus in the eyes. “It’s been a hell of a fight, and now a hell of a…” he sighed heavily, “I don’t even know what this is, but it’s fucked up. I wonder what she did.” 

“Are you suggesting that whatever is happening is Shepard’s fault?” Garrus asked coolly and slowly, articulating each word with extra care. A cold rage gripped him at Kaidan’s implications, and showed in the emphasised flanging of his voice.

“The blast must have caused this. I’m not saying she did it,” the human waved one hand in irritation, the other poised at his hip. Garrus breathed. Focused on the pulsing vein in Kaidan’s neck. It would only take a flick of his single talon… He swallowed.

“I hope you’re not,” he said in a lower voice than usual, not even attempting to suppress the warning in it. “Because she has done more than anyone else - for all of us. She risked her life so we can all still sit on our asses.” He could not - would not say “gave her life”. Because what if..? Because he was plunging into a desperate new hope.


	3. Chapter 3

They had been stranded there for three days when Liara got - or rather gathered the courage to voice - her idea. The definition of 'day’ had become relative though: the crew were predictably keeping to the Galactic Standard Time, which vastly disagreed with this planet’s own cycle. The 1.73 GST days’ length of one local day gave them over twenty GST hours of sunlight, disrupting sleep patterns and adding to uneasiness most of the people felt. Garrus liked the night though. When the local sun - EDI had informed them it was a small red dwarf - had finally set on their first day, the skies revealed twin moons orbiting the planet: one huge, almost looking like it was dangerously too close, and the other just a small satellite, which seemed to chase after its big neighbour in a narrow orbit, as if in a futile race to win its affection. However alien this sight was, somewhat menacing even for it seemed there was just too much of everything in this world, Garrus admitted and appreciated the undeniable beauty of it. Shepard would have loved it. 

Liara had tried talking to him, and he had acquiesced finally, mostly to just hear her apology, nod, and interrupt her lengthy emotional explanations with “It's ok, Liara. Had to be done.”

And now she wanted a ceremony. Not just her in fact: most crew members expressed a wish to hold a small memorial service for those they had lost in the battle for Earth. Garrus could understand the desire to pay one's respects, to achieve a closure of sorts, but he did not want to be a part of that. He did not want to stand in front of others and make a speech, as Liara had suggested. The idea was so ridiculous and even offensive to him, he had cut her off with a harsh no. She still asked him to be there, even without talking. 

There was talk of course, anyway. Liara started off by saying why they gathered by the memorial wall on the crew deck, and that felt unnecessary and almost cruel to Garrus: they all knew the reason well enough. The asari at least had the decency to be brief and to only call out the names and invite anyone present to say a few words if they wanted to. Her voice was trembling while she herself was putting the plaque with Admiral Anderson's name on the wall. And Garrus finally accepted it - almost. Everyone grieved and showed their respect in different ways - emotion spilling out in public was Liara’s, and apparently asari as well as humans preferred to speak of the dead rather than let the Spirits guide them into the afterlife in respectful silence as was the custom of his people. 

James had a hard time adding Steve’s name on the list of crew casualties. 

“Be well, buddy,” the man mumbled, tapping the wall, and returned into the first rows of the small crowd. Garrus caught his eye and nodded. Vega knitted his brows in an obvious effort to retain composure and nodded back. 

Focused on the exchange, Garrus never noticed Liara approaching him with an apologetic look on her face. He looked up when she was already right in front of him, and his first impulse was to snap if she had forgotten his refusal to speak at the gathering. But then she lowered her eyes to her hands, and his heart stopped for a beat. She was holding - giving him - a plate, with a name on it. The wrong name, for so many reasons wrong. _Commander Shepard_ , it said. Her _name_ was not even on it, like it was more important that she was a commander, not Jane - his Jane, who would headbutt a krogan in a heartbeat, who laughed till her eyes teared after teaching her turian boyfriend human idioms’ meanings all wrong, and whose skin became flecked with those funny human things - freckles, 'sun kisses’, she had said, after an hour in the sun. She would have to wear sunscreen here all the time…

Garrus blinked at his hands, which were holding the offending, impossible object. It struck him: who had even thought of making these? When? Were they printed out and prepared the moment one became a member of the Normandy's crew? Was there a storage crate tucked away somewhere holding all their names - all their lives - in suspense? Or was this one 'fresh’, newly made, 'for the occasion’? He must have been staring at it for longer than he realised, as awkward coughs and odd sniffles started filtering in through the haze in his head. 

He found EDI suddenly by his side, her face full of genuine compassion, which - multiplied by the fact that this richness of emotional expression was something she had gained while there was so much Shepard had lost - did not help in the least, suffocating him instead of giving comfort. He stepped forward and stared instead at the memorial wall, going through the names, recalling Mordin’s polite coughs as he linked him certain vids, just before Shepard and himself tried to…; the certainty in Legion’s voice when he first said 'I’; the readiness to go in Thane’s final prayer. For her. All of them had been and were there now because of her and for her - for Shepard. She was so much more than a name on a sticky plate. 

He peeled his decidedly dry eyes from the wall and swept a look over the small crowd with something between a scowl and a smile. He might have looked like a madman, but at that moment he believed ferociously - despite the horrible numbing ache, despite the emptiness within - that she lived. And he refused to add her name to the dead. 

***

“Do you _think_ \- I’m not asking about belief - that there might be a chance Shepard is still alive?” Javik was direct and unflinching, as always, when he approached Garrus later that day. He was taking a break from the repairs - and from people - outside in the slowly waning sun: it would still take it hours to set. He heaved a sigh.

“I don't know. All I have now is hope, and a very small probability born of ignorance. But I'm not giving up until I find proof…” he paused instead of saying “of either.” The prothean nodded, hands clasped behind his back. 

“I have heard accounts of the Commander's previous… experience with death. I can see why you're reluctant to believe she is gone. I want you to know you have my assistance if you need it in finding out the truth.” Garrus opened his mouth in silent surprise. 

“Thank you,” he managed after a while, when Javik was already walking away. 

As it turned out, there were two camps now on the matter: all believers. One - in Shepard's impossible ability to survive anything, the others - in Garrus’ understandable inability to cope with the loss of her. He often found himself under the attempt of being nudged or soothed by a representative of each, and mostly ended up avoiding everyone if their wish to communicate was not work-related. Work was thankfully plentiful. From running checks on the Normandy's tech and trying to bring her back online, to keeping watch over the campsite, from clearing the debris to managing rationing, from helping the wounded to handling the elevated stress levels, there was something to be done at all times. Garrus eagerly busied himself with the most exhausting and time-consuming tasks: not only to help restrain himself from asking EDI if there was any news way too often, but to feel there was something he could do, something that had a visible and positive impact on the situation. To feel he was not entirely useless and powerless. 

His omni-tool pinged with a question from Tali, and he headed back inside the Normandy, favouring a hands-on approach over lengthy explanations, especially these days. He was forced to resolve to the latter however, as Dr. Chakwas intercepted him on the way to the engineering deck. She was very hard to shake off once she had her mind set on examining Garrus. 

“It's been days after a major injury - injuries, I should stress, Vakarian,” she admonished as he installed himself onto a med bay cot for the checkup. He remained silent, stubbornly, but allowed her to take blood samples, shine her light into his eyes, and make all sorts of measurements. Garrus was not concerned with his physical condition: he was feeling considerably better, and just wanted to return to some meaningful activity, something he could put his hands and his brain to and make it work. Himself was operational enough to worry about. 

“You are recovering well,” the Doctor said finally, having given up on drawing any words from Garrus. “In fact it's quite remarkable how fast it's happening,” she mumbled, clearly not meant for his attention. The remark stirred some interest in him though, so he filed it away to consider later. 

“I know,” he said flatly, with barely a hint of a shrug. “Thanks.” She put the instruments away and gave Garrus a long straight look. He held it. 

“You know you can talk to me, right?” He did not expect that question. Dr. Chakwas was someone he saw as curt, efficient, highly professional, no-nonsense person. It would never occur to him to consider her a confidant material - if he ever wanted one that is. Well, he had had one… And he knew Shepard had got drunk with the Doctor on multiple occasions, although he was unaware of how heart-to-heart the two women’s conversations had been. These past few days his only even remotely personal conversations had been with Tali. She was his oldest friend there, someone who had been with Shepard for nearly as long as he himself had, and someone… well, he owed the birth of his hope to her really. 

“I do now,” Garrus said after a long pause. Dr. Chakwas simply nodded, avoiding any further forays into his psyche. He felt grateful, even if he did not express it. 

He made a mistake. He should have taken the stairs down through the shaft, but they had just repaired the elevators, and his legs took him that way without much interference on the part of his head. It was stupid to turn away once he noticed Alenko leaning a hand on the memorial wall, the other clasping his hip - judging by the tension in his fingers, with a strange urgency. The man saw Garrus and shook his head. Garrus wanted to stay calm, to just ignore whatever the other had to say to avoid a confrontation he suspected would ensue if he let Kaidan get to him. Instead, he heard his own voice, its flanging more pronounced, snap.

“What?” A second, and a monumental effort later, he added, “What is it?”

“It's wrong,” Alenko rasped, giving him a hard look and nodding at the wall. _It is,_ Garrus thought, but soon realised they were thinking of different things entirely as the human man continued. “It feels wrong _these_ names are here, and others aren't. You know, Vakarian,” he started in a changed voice, which to Garrus’ ear now much more trained to humans’ tone and pitch, sounded heavy with emotion and… sincere? “I didn't expect to come back from that. Didn't expect any of us to.” _Makes two of us,_ Garrus thought, although his own mantra before they had started the battle for Earth had been ‘we live or we die - together’. “And now I look at these names,” Kaidan slammed his fisted hand sideways into the wall, “and it's wrong. 'Cause some are missing. Mine, I think. Hers, too.” 

“Yours, I could live with. But Shepard is MIA until I learn otherwise.” Garrus wanted to turn on his toes and away from the elevator, to climb down through the shaft instead of looking at Kaidan's face before he took it even further, but a strong hand gripped his forearm. 

“Well that wasn't a nice thing to say, Vakarian. And here I thought we were all friends,” Kaidan hissed the words thick with venom. Garrus refused to dwell on the horrified realisation of what he had just said to his shipmate, someone who had been his colleague, his brother in arms for years, even if they had not agreed on much and had never really been friends. He used to respect the human biotic, and now - did he hate him? Did he really want him dead? Garrus jerked his arm free. 

“Don't test me, Alenko. You know what it was about. No need for drama.”

“Huh!” Kaidan laughed, too loud and with too much of an act to it. “Did you just tell me I’m a drama queen, huh? Who do you fucking think you are?” The man’s blood was boiling even visibly now, the spike of data on his vitals on Garrus’ visor unnecessary. Kaidan stepped in closer, which admittedly did not look threatening in the least delivered from a human of average height to a turian, and the man knew it, and it made him angrier. So he made a show of his biotics flaring around his clenched fists. Garrus realised - with only a mild surprise - that he was in fact ready for a fight. And although somewhere deep inside he was a little terrified of what was happening to him, somewhere else deep inside he knew headbutting Alenko would feel utterly satisfying. He was being an annoying little shit right now after all. Garrus relaxed his stance for a millisecond and poised - he would have to be faster than the mass effect field cast at him. 

“That's enough!” The command came from Dr. Chakwas, and it sounded like giving orders was something she had been doing her whole career - and in a way she had. “Kaidan, Garrus, it’s understandable everyone is on edge, but it's quite unnecessary to add problems to our already long list. Come and talk to me if you need to.”

“I'm done talking,” Kaidan barked and left, having thrown a narrow-eyed look in Garrus’ direction and a tiny discharge of biotics into a wall.” Garrus just stood there, shaking his head - both at Alenko and at himself. 

“Garrus,” Dr. Chakwas was by his side, suddenly speaking so much softer. “Try not to mind him, he’s…”

“What, in pain? You can't really believe his headaches are a sufficient excuse for him being an ass.” The sardonicism-soaked words spilt out of their own accord. 

“I was going to say, been demonstrating above normal levels of both anxiety and aggression these days. But the cause is not physical, his migraines in fact seem to have been alleviated since we landed here,” the Doctor continued, unflinching. Garrus did not care much for how Alenko was feeling, definitely not right now, but something in those words set off a little alarm in his mind. He remembered what she had said about his own recovery. 

“Have you noticed faster recovery in all of us?” he pierced the Doctor’s calm and professional eyes with his. She nodded. “You have an explanation? Can it be the effect of the local atmosphere? We haven’t found anything too unusual in it, but true, we haven’t done much study,” Garrus started pacing in a tiny circle around the small area, his mind racing - it must have been excited to deal with anything other than grief and helplessness. 

“Garrus,” Dr. Chakwas stopped him firmly, although not ungently. “I don’t think so. EDI and I have been working on it, still are. We have a theory.”

“And?” His reserves of patience had run dry. The woman nearly scoffed, giving half-a shake of her head, then met his intent gaze.

“It’s about what’s happened to us.” She rolled up her sleeve and turned her forearm for the light to catch on the greenish circuitry under her skin. “We think we know what it is. We’ll call for a… debrief later today.”

***

By the time the meeting was convened, he already knew most of it. So now he could only listen to The Doctor and EDI with half the attention, devoting the other half to watching everyone else, their reactions to the news. 

They had been made one with the machines, someone more poetic than himself would say. They were now cyborgs - someone more practical and precise - more turian - would define: part organic, part synthetic. EDI - visibly, incredibly, nervous - was explaining that the green wave the Normandy had failed to escape and been hit by, the very same to cause their crash, had been a nano blast. It had been a swarm of sorts, on an unimaginably large scale: it consisted of enough nanites to implant them into every sentient organic and synthetic life form, altering everyone's DNA. There was proof, Dr. Chakwas continued, in the test results - we were all different now. New. Improved? Altered. 

Some people panicked, as of course they would. Some got angry - Garrus was not surprised to find Kaidan among those. He understood, too: it had been something done to everyone without their assent, without their knowledge even. And the worst thing - it had been done with - if not by - the Reaper technology. He felt he ought to be terrified, disgusted by that, but he was not. Somehow, he did not really know what to feel about all that, because for one - he was definitely recovering faster than he normally would have after the received injuries, and he felt like he was able to do some things, understand some things, much faster, clearer - that had been what Tali had called him to discuss earlier. They had realised they had figured out a way to fix part of the Normandy’s machinery in such an efficient way they could not understand how they had not thought of that before. Maybe they simply had not had the processing power? He knew, unlike some people, that they had not been made into robots - it was a ridiculous claim to make, a sign of fear of the new and uncertain, nothing more. But the tiny nanites now inhabiting all the systems of their bodies were starting to do their job - making those systems more efficient, rerouting resources, creating new synapse connections and thus transmitting signals across the brain a lot faster than organics had been capable of before. But they were still themselves: their characters, their behaviour remained mostly unchanged. With those who seemed changed, Garrus believed it had been the effect of the battle and the crash rather than anything else. 

When one of the engineers - one of those fascinated rather than frightened by the news - asked what this “merging” meant for synthetics, EDI blinked rapidly and looked away before answering. 

“I cannot speak for all, but as for myself,” she took a deep breath she still did not need, “you shouldn’t think we’ve become organic - that is not possible, at least not like this. Changes have been made to my systems, chunks of code added and expanded. I… am not human, but I am more like everyone else now, more like you. I still don’t need to eat or breathe to exist, but I now understand what it is, what it means, and what it feels like to exist. I am truly alive.” 

There was a silence: part terrified, part awed hush. Then there were murmurs. Of comments and countless questions. Questions EDI did not yet know the answer to, but promised to share as soon as she learnt more. And then there was a voice - one voice, straining to raise above all. It was strange he strained really, he had not been new to command anymore. 

“Tell us the most important part,” Kaidan said. “Who did it to us?” And the question sounded like an accusation, an introduction to a sentence and execution. 

“We… I don’t know.”

“Didn’t you say the Reapers? Does it mean we lost this fucking war and the those machines won?”

“No, I said there was partly a Reaper code in the new DNA. Not that it was done by the Reapers, or that they won. I don’t think so. I don’t think we lost. But I think that the war is over.” Garrus let out a smile riding on an incredulous huff of exhaled air. She said ‘we’, clearly not referring to synthetics. Kaidan just laughed an ugly and pained laugh and shook his head.

“What the hell did Shepard do this time?”

Garrus could not remember later how he managed to be so fast. They told him he pounced on Alenko, throwing both to the ground, and jabbed his fist into his face, just before he felt the clasp of a biotic Reave, piercing him, shieldless and unprotected, and draining the very life out of him. Vega pulled them apart quickly enough for either to do too much damage. And yet, the damage had been done - irrevocably, Garrus felt. There was no path in the future where Kaidan and himself would ever be friendly again. There was no time to dwell on it - or any sense to, as among the medigel applications and the crowd moving around them, doing whatever they were, there was a new voice, and he was yelling. 

“They work!” one of the marines hollered, “the comms are back online!” And he ran back inside the Normandy, followed by all of the crowd: some, those of lower rank by force of habit, held back a little before pursuing everyone else. But there was not enough space for all in the CIC conference room, besides, for many it was out of their reach, and people still being Alliance, stopped just short of the entrance but within earshot. 

Engineer Adams was tinkering with the comms, trying to add a holographic image to the crackling sound. But even before he managed, those present recognised the voice. 

“Lieutenants Adams, Moreau, Vega” they heard, and the mentioned straightened up in a synchronised salute. There was a beauty to it. 

“Admiral Hackett.”

“Garrus Vakarian,” the Admiral greeted with a nod. Garrus jerked in surprise: he did not think he was even in his line of vision, but stepped in closer and joined the rank.

“Sir.” 

“So the Normandy’s alive?” It looked like the man was addressing him, and Garrus was nearly about to ask the hell why. True, Shepard had left him de facto in charge of the ship several times, but he was definitely not - and could not be - an official XO. But the Admiral _was_ looking at him, asking him. So who cares.

“Yes, sir. Not fully operational after the crash landing yet, but we’re working on it.” Without waiting for response, and breaking all protocols, he posed his own question. “What news of Earth? Our comms have been cut off since… the blast,” he managed to form and force the words out of his mouth. Hackett paused, staring at all of them intently.

“The fighting’s over.”

“Have we won, sir?” James asked eagerly. “Permission to speak, sir” he added, ashamed, his jowls working. 

“I guess we could say so.”

“Sir?” Joker asked, confused.

“The Reapers are no longer a threat. There has been a huge change since the blast of the Crucible. It worked. Not the way we thought it would, but there is no threat. Shepard did it.” Garrus’ rapping heartbeat was deafening in his head.

“Any intel about the Commander, sir?” Garrus asked, swallowing hard. “We lost contact since she entered the Citadel,” he added, as if someone did not know that. 

“The Citadel has been largely destroyed, I regret to say,” the Admiral looked away only for a fraction of a moment. “I’m sorry. Not much of it is left where the Crucible was latched to it, and we couldn’t recover…” he paused again momentarily, as if searching for the appropriate vocabulary, and deciding against embellishments, “any matching bodies.” Garrus closed his eyes. Breathed. 

“Is there an ongoing operation there at the moment, sir?”

“Yes. The Reapers are there.” To the astonished and enraged outcry of “What the f..?” which came from Kaidan, who had finally inserted himself into the room, his chin still bloody, the Admiral’s eyes narrowed briefly. “Major Alenko. I forget you are not informed. The Reapers are now cooperating with us. They are to repair the Citadel. Together with our specialists. We’re learning a lot from them.” Kaidan’s face was distorted with disgust, but he said nothing. 

“I request your permission to head a search operation for Commander Shepard on the Citadel once the Normandy’s back, sir,” Garrus stated, rather than asked, steadying himself to keep standing upright and not collapse under the weight of it all. “To determine the validity of the MIA status, sir.”

“Of course,” the Admiral said, his nostrils flaring with a sharp intake of breath. “You’ll have full admission. Not much help though. A lot needs to be done around here. You can imagine the scale of repairs.”

“Appreciate it, sir.” 

“Good luck. Hackett out.”

It was Liara, standing in the back rows of people, who broke the silence. 

“By the Goddess. The Reapers…Shepard...” Garrus interrupted before she could finish forming any of her sentences. 

“We focus on finishing the repairs so we can go,” he said, adding without looking at anyone in particular before walking past the people who stepped aside to let him through, “each our own way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This story is plotted out to be quite long and a little complex with so many characters, but I'm determined to develop it and bring it to conclusion (a happy one). So a big thanks to anyone who's willing to stick with it, you're great. I'd be happy to hear what you think so far as well.


	4. Chapter 4

The closer they got to the departure from this planet, with its mesmerising twin moons and its achingly long days and its oversaturated wilderness, the twitchier Garrus became. He was growing restless, his impatience hammering a rhythm inside his head, pushing him to do more, to sleep less, to move, to get out, to get to her. To find her. Or to find that he had lost her forever. He could not decide what he craved more - the certainty, or the hope. In any case, his resolve grew. His readiness, for whatever was to come. 

He stopped putting an extra effort into avoiding people. He was not seeking contact, far from it, but was simply too busy with his work and his thoughts to notice others most of the time. Tonight though he did notice. Tali asked him to have a proper dinner together for once: a warmed up package of dextro something or other for him and the same in the form of a paste for her in the mess hall, instead of the nutrition bars they had been having for days without stepping away from the consoles and engines and tight stuffy places they climbed into to fix the Normandy. 

Tali pinged she would be joining him shortly, so Garrus waited at a table, the foil over his meal still intact. He was scrolling through the lines of code he had been working on just to have something to do: even brief idleness did not occur to him as being a valid option. He was not focusing on the program though, not enough anyway, as a conversation at another table drew his attention. EDI and Joker were having a meal together - or rather he was eating and she had a glass of something in front of her, just for the sake of company, Garrus supposed. They had nodded a greeting to each other earlier, and he was content not to get into a forced conversation. But now he could not help overhearing them, and as a result - actually listening. 

“I’m telling you it _will_ be possible, Jeff,” EDI insisted gently, her hand siding to stroke Joker’s idle one. The man lifted his head from his plate. 

“Look, I’ve lived my whole life like this. It sucks, but that's just the way it is, and I got used to it. Learnt to be good at other things. I don't want to get my hopes up, EDI,” he added after a silence. “Even if there will be a way to cure me, there’ll be one hell of a lot of stuff to rebuild and to fix after this war, _I_ won’t be anywhere near a priority.”

“I understand,” EDI nodded, “but…”

“It's nice to imagine, I know,” Joker agreed. 

It was surprising to hear the pilot so humbly sincere, so devoid of his usual bite, but the topic of conversation surely warranted the change. The cure was in fact likely, Garrus thought. They were still to find out about all the changes that had been done to their DNA, about all the possibilities that were or would be open to them in the future. But yeah, Cerberus had already brought Shepard back to life, of course there would be a way to fix Joker's brittle bones with the implanted nanites. And then he would be able to lift EDI for that best kind of embrace - with her face beaming down at him, her laughter spilling through a halo of fiery copper-red hair as she slipped down into his arms…

“Garrus,” Tali repeated, sitting down across from him. “You ok?”

“Hey,” he swallowed, his brief reverie broken. Without looking at Tali directly, he started to unwrap the tin foil, his gloved fingers undisturbed by the rising steam. He paused with a fork in mid air. “Yeah. Was just thinking, her eyes wouldn't have changed.”

“I’m sorry?” she said quietly, almost plaintively, her voice merely a whisper. 

“They would've remained green,” he said, feeling a smile hiding in the minute flicker of his mandibles. Tali made a choked sort of sound and nodded. 

“Of course,” she said with a strained little laugh. “Who would dare to change Shepard too much?” 

***

He wanted to see her eyes again, he wanted the explosion of colour that was her hair and her eyes on a sunny day somewhere with a real atmosphere, so her brightness did not need to be tamed by a helmet. He could not. He wanted to dream of her, but she would not join him in those couple of hours of fitful half wakefulness. It was unfair. He had a couple of photos and even vids of her on his omni-tool, but he felt like that would be cheating, so he did not look at those. He just thought of her, every bloody moment of every day, and it was driving him insane. It was… not unlike the time on Omega, right before he had nearly collapsed having spotted the familiar frame and face in his rifle scope. The thought itself that he was ready to go through the horror of Omega again, including the stupid rocket to his face, if he only knew it would end with seeing her again, alive, was too close to insanity for comfort. In all fairness though, comfort was not what he wanted. Shepard was not comfort, she was a live wire, a force of nature. He could not settle for any less now. 

Something had to be done about his nerves though. He would not turn to meditation as advised, it was just not his kind of thing to do. But after the incident, he had to take steps. That morning, he had grabbed one of the Alliance marines and slammed him against a wall. Thing is, the poor sod, who was painfully loyal to Shepard, and who had in fact been defending her in a verbal fight with a mate, had too little hope after all, too little faith in her, daring to speak of her in the past tense. After Garrus’ reaction, no one else would, he thought. But his reactions needed to be reined in. Somehow. 

When Vega pinged asking him for assistance in the shuttle bay, he went without a thought. But where Garrus expected to be of help, it was James who would be helping him out. 

“What's up, Scars? Picking on the smaller guys now, eh? What about someone closer to your own size?” the marine said by way of a greeting, rolling his burly shoulders inside a shirt so tight it was practically a miracle how it clung to his muscles without tearing. A flash of anger flared inside Garrus, but died out the next moment, when he understood what James was doing by goading him. 

“Don't flatter yourself, Vega, you're barely up to my shoulder,” he said without much of an edge, and started unclasping his armour. It struck him then that he could not even explain wearing it: the atmosphere did not require protection, and they had not had a single hostile encounter, not even counting the fact he was currently inside the ship. Was it just helping him feel like he was ready at any moment? Garrus swore under his breath at this unwelcome self analysis. 

“Wanna show me what you got, spiky guy?”

“Oh absolutely,” Garrus replied, surprised by the unbidden satisfaction he felt: this - getting a hold of oneself through a good old hand-to-hand sparring - was familiar, effective, and he should have thought if it earlier himself really. But now was not the time to dwell on that. The last piece of his leg guards joined the scattered parts of his armour on the floor, leaving him lighter, nimbler, and in his undersuit unprotected by anything other than his plates, his skill, and the speed of his reactions. 

Vega was good at this. There was a fluidity to his attacks, an almost dance-like quality now - so different from what he was used to seeing James do in the field. There the human was famous - or notorious, depending on who you asked - for using brute force to solve any problem, be that a geth destroyer or a jammed console. Now James was different, and Garrus appreciated a battle of wits just as much as that of strength. 

They prowled around each other only briefly, each blocking or countering a few of the tentative warm-up hooks and kicks, before starting to deal in serious blows. 

It might have looked like Garrus failed to evade James’ jab to his jaw - his “bad side” at that, but it was a calculated move to lure Vega in for another punch, have him lower his guard and open himself for a crushing uppercut from Garrus’ fist into the human's solar plexus. It was not an entirely fair fight: Vega surely was stronger and better trained than most humans, but he lacked a turian’s natural protective carapace and plates. 

This brawl - sparring - was good. It was not about being violent without measure or reason; they were simply working the things out of their systems, things both were failing to deal with otherwise. Not everyone seemed to realise that, however. 

Garrus noticed, heard rather than saw - at this point in the fight he could not afford to let his gaze roam away from his opponent - that their combat practice had attracted a few spectators. People were mostly watching quietly, with occasional murmurs of approval or clicks of the tongue at a missed blow or opportunity. But then there came the familiar breathy “by the goddess”, and he wondered with a stray hint if amusement if Liara was going to try and stop them. 

“Leave them,” Garrus heard Javik speak.

“Leave them to what?! Injuring each other? There is blood everywhere!” she exclaimed with evident horror. Garrus blinked to refocus his attention, and true - a bit of both red and blue was decorating their clothes, and even the floor sported a few modest splatters. Liara's reaction though was funny, strange, as if any of them was still unaccustomed to the sight of each other's or their own blood, as if this was not a normal wind-down practice among the asari, too. Maybe it was not. 

“Liara,” there were heavier authoritative notes in Javik's voice now, but he somehow sounded not at all hostile, not like before, “leave them to it. They know what they're doing.” She went quiet. Garrus regretted not being able to see her face then. He thought her lack of reaction must have been due to the prothean’s use of her actual name - had that been the first time? - rather than calling her “the asari” as was his habit. 

James proved he was impressively quick for his admittedly quite massive for a human build when he managed to twist away from Garrus’ front kick, gripped his leg and held it in a lock with the pressure against his spur. Damn. There was always a price to pay for a distraction, Garrus reminded himself. 

“‘Twas good, man,” Vega said as they did that once weird but now comforting - for Garrus knew it meant true friendship - human gesture: bumping their opposite shoulders together while slapping each other's backs. 

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“More research material for the Doc too,” Vega smirked, wiping the trickle of blood from his split lip. Garrus’ good mandible flicked to the side in an almost unbidden chuckle. He had to admit to himself he did welcome some companionship after all. 

“Yeah.”

Before seeing Dr. Chakwas, who would undoubtedly be angry with them at first, Garrus made a tour around most of the Normandy, looking for the marine he had attacked earlier. It might have been wiser to get himself sorted first, blood stains, cuts and bruises and all, but he felt he really needed to apologise, not for the sake of conventions - he was way too lousy a turian for that - but because he wanted to. The man shook his hand with enough tact, respect, and something else Garrus was unsure of the meaning of, that made him feel better. Combined with the sparring, it shook him back into the state of mind he needed to be in when Joker caught him in a corridor later and pulled him aside to whisper, “almost ready for takeoff”.

***

Even with the Normandy herself at the ready, they could not simply pack up and leave: fixing the frigate had only solved one of the major how's of getting back to Earth. The questions of how long the journey would take, where they would find the consequential landing spots to discharge the accumulated FTL drives charge before they all got fried alive, and even if their remaining fuel reserves would be sufficient, were all still standing because they lacked a ridiculous little bit of data. They did not know where exactly they were. 

The crew gathered the information they had and tried to do their best with it, but with so much of it missing, their calculations were proving to be uncooperative. All they knew with certainty was that the shockwave created by the blast of the Crucible had not only temporarily killed off all the Normandy's electronics, but had caught them in its momentum, pushing the starship far enough to end up outside the Sol system. That made some sense - Joker had been taking them towards the Charon Relay at the time, only they had never reached it. Which was for the best after all: further contact with Earth had informed them of the damage by the blast to the complete network of mass relays, so being off the map was still preferable to being exposed to more - or likely even complete - devastation. 

With FTL their only option to reach Earth, as soon as the Normandy had been fixed, all the engineers and technicians had switched to calculating their position and the route back home. Home. It was funny how Garrus thought of it that way. Earth was not home for him. But Shepard was. It made for a close enough approximation. 

The unnamed and unknown planet which had housed them for the past few weeks remained a mystery. The calculations pointed at their location being somewhere within Arcturus Stream, but the local star was definitely neither Arcturus not Euler, and the planet itself had no matches in either system of the cluster - or even in the next probable Exodus cluster for that matter. It meant they had to be in what all their galaxy maps showed as the void between the star systems - the blank space. ‘Blank’, of course, only being the synonym for ‘as yet unexplored’, although it was strange to be the first to have found a habitable planet in such close proximity to major hubs of civilisation, within what had to be either Alliance or Inner Council Space. But all those concerns - together with the ones about the fate of this very planet after their presence had likely contaminated it and possibly would have an effect on its evolutionary cycle - only skimmed through Garrus’ mind. He simply did not have the capacity to worry about all of that now - or he chose not to. 

It took nearly another week to have their course plotted to the best of their ability - including so many plan Bs they nearly constituted an alphabet of their own. But final preparations were at a close, both on board and outside: the camp - along with most signs of its very presence - was gone, the fresh water supply restocked, and even a couple of crates with locals samples packed into the cargo bay. It was time to leave. The faces of the crew members striding purposefully through the ship varied from hopeful to stern to apprehensive. Garrus was… focused. He tried not to think about anything that was not an immediate goal, a next step on his way. At times he almost managed. 

Dr. Chakwas had refused him the stims, providing an argument he even found valid, so he honestly attempted to get some sleep before the takeoff, with poor success. But now he felt ready. Most members of Shepard's squad congregated in the War Room, Tali preferring to be near the engines where she felt most useful. Garrus almost envied her that: right now he could not pinpoint where he would be of most use himself, so he paced the room, kept his eyes intermittently on his omni-tool and the terminals and asked Joker and EDI for updates, which, to their merit, came often enough as it was. 

It had started well: the engines and the thrusters were working properly, translating into a smooth enough FTL flight. But they knew - or at least expected - this to go on for days, and that meant too much free time. If everything went well, they had about fifty-five hours of unbroken FTL before the Normandy had to land to discharge. Their aim was to land on Pluto, but they were yet to see if their calculations would prove close enough within the range of nearly correct for that. 

After hours of the uneventful flight, after a few promising talks to EDI and Joker on the bridge, after manually checking all the systems multiple times, Garrus found nothing else to do but to set about fixing his armour. His heart was not really in it, but the deeply installed - bred, probably - sense of purpose and propriety the act gave him, made the work a better way to pass the time than trying - and failing - to sleep again, or chat to others. He had nothing to say to them now that he had not already said. He had formed a plan of action for when they got to Earth, and was only waiting for this leg of the journey to be over so he could move on. 

“You won't make it look much better with what we have available here,” Dr. Chakwas stated bluntly, looking at the plate of his armour badly damaged around his cowl.

“I’ll settle for bad looks if it does the job of protecting me a bit better,” he grumbled, avoiding eye contact. “Did you come to share more useful commentary?”

“In fact I did,” she replied, unaffected by the barb. “Here,” she handed him a syringe. 

“No,” he shook his head, but the Doctor was no less stubborn than himself.

“I adjusted both the mixture and the dosage. It won't knock you out so much that you can't wake up easily. It will only help you fall asleep, and will hold for about three to four hours. I’ll be monitoring the situation and will personally wake you up if anything happens. Anything.” Her eyes bored into his, and it was clear she was not about to accept defeat. He was still unconvinced though. 

“Garrus. You plan to go search the Citadel as soon as we land on Earth. You know how you are going to do that and who you want to come with you. You won't want to lose time on extra preparations, or on sleep. But you will need to be at your best - at your currently possible best - for that.” Her words stung, and she knew it. But she was right. He owed it to Shepard to give his all to finding her, rescuing her. He put away the tools. Nodded. 

“I’ll ping you before I take it.”

“I’ll wake you up,” she repeated, avoiding the “if anything happens” part this time. 

***

“Garrus.” 

It was wise of her not to touch him. The talons on his ungloved hands could have cut through the Doctor's unprotected skin as he jolted up in his cot in the main battery. He was panting, and his visor was flashing warnings at him for the highly elevated heartbeat. He gave her a look instead of asking. 

“Pluto is in sight.”

Grabbing his gloves was everything Garrus needed to do before he was ready to go to the bridge, and he was already checking his omni-tool on the way. They bad been in FTL for nearly fifty-two hours. Damn good timing. 

“Will we be able to make it?” he asked the question in the general direction of the bridge, somewhere between Joker and EDI. 

“We should,” EDI replied while Joker was focusing on the controls. “The damage on the surface must be due to the mass relay core overloading. But it should suffice for the discharge.” Garrus stepped closer to shift his gaze from the terminal to what was outside. The curved metal arms of the Charon Relay, once thought one of Pluto’s moons, were intact, and even its element zero core retained some of its bluish hue, but the gyroscopic rings containing it were not revolving. That was not the only disconcerting part of the image however. Some of the rings were occupied by Reapers. This seemed a proper moment to break into a cold sweat. 

“Fuck,” Joker exhaled, paling, but kept his eyes on the controls after that first glance. 

“They are not hostile,” EDI said, and Garrus noted her quick look first at Joker, then at the rest of them behind her shoulder. As if she wanted to make sure everybody heard that. And they did. Coming to terms with the fact was another matter entirely. 

“What are they doing there?” Kaidan spit the question out with a flare of hatred. Garrus briefly probed his own feelings, and found apprehension, an understandable amount of distrust, but not much else. Because everything else was occupied by the single goal of getting closer to finding Shepard. 

“They are on the damaged rings,” he said with a tinge of fascination. 

“Indeed,” EDI confirmed. “They appear to be repairing the relay. I can contact them on the comms, I think,” she added, darting an uncertain look at Garrus. How was it that others seemed to perceive him as a figure of authority when he was by no means in charge? Instead of thinking about that, he shook his head. 

“Don't think it's necessary.” EDI made a sound of a quick intake of breath. 

“I'm afraid I’ve already sent the signal,” she admitted. “They confirmed the landing zone should be safe enough for the discharge.” Garrus skipped a breath. 

“Right. We take off as soon as the discharge is complete.” He chose not to comment on EDI’s choice of unauthorised action. He was uncertain what to think about it. In what was to become this world, for all of them changed, the Reapers becoming a new and unexpected ally was only logical. The connection might benefit all. It was just that he had no stomach for pondering on that right now. They were mere hours away from their destination. 

It cost Garrus an immense effort to make himself have something to eat and to allow Dr. Chakwas another quick checkup before they arrived. On his way out of the medbay, she gave him two packages of meds. 

“I will trust your judgement with these, Garrus. And I’ll stand ready to help. Good luck.” He held her straight, harsh, honest gaze, and nodded. 

“Thank you.” 

He was all packed and ready, his armour still showing the traces left by the a reaper's beam and the explosion debris but more functional now, especially with the store of meds, and his Black Widow cleaned and double-checked, although he had almost had second thoughts about using it - for a moment there he superstitiously, foolishly, hated the rifle’s name. But the moment passed.

And there he stood right behind EDI, unable to be anywhere further from both the bridge and the main airlock. He stepped away when he realised he was gripping the back of her chair too intensely. Strangely, EDI did not complain. Everyone's thoughts and eyes were on the image they were fast approaching: the now so familiar blue planet looking less blue for the scorch marks and new craters and fires scarring its surface, and still in the nearly same spot above it, only slightly further away, what remained of the Citadel. 

Garrus’ heart clenched. 

There were Reapers there too, and he was glad for the preparation given by their first encounter on Pluto, and yet, this was so different. Reapers, the enemy they had been fighting for years, the enemy who had devastated their homeworlds and killed millions, were now cooperating? Fixing the havoc they had themselves wreaked? Was something like that even possible to fix?

There came a clear, loud voice among the murmur. The voice he did not expect to be giving a pep talk now. 

“I know how much we have all lost to the Reapers, to this war. But the war is over,” Tali said. “It is almost unthinkable to see them here now and not reach for a weapon, but this, this might be a new beginning. It's hard for you all to see it this way, but I’ve already been in this position. This is not much different from the quarians and the geth. We were killing each other, bent on total destruction, annihilation of the other species one moment and then merely days later, even the same day - we were cooperating. And it worked. This might be the same thing.” She faced Garrus now and he regretted not being able to see the expression on her face behind the helmet. “Shepard united us. Quarians and geth, turians and krogan, we were all working together. It means it's Shepard who did this, too. Uniting more of the galaxy,” she said with admiration. Garrus’ mandibles flickered in appreciation and suppressed emotion. 

“You don't see one little detail here, Tali,” Kaidan appeared from behind her. “She only managed to unite us all behind one common goal, a single purpose: to fight _them_!” he jabbed an accusing finger at the screen showing reapers at work. “You’re saying Shepard made friends with the reapers? She wouldn't. She was a damn good soldier, and _they _were the enemy.”__

__“And they no longer are,” Garrus growled dangerously, his fists clenching. He was unsure as to whom he was trying to convince more - Kaidan or himself, but he could not abide the past tense in which Alenko referred to her. He could hardly abide the man himself any longer. “She did what she was tasked with - removing the reaper threat. It's no longer her responsibility to have everyone adjust to the new order of things. You,” he said, slowly and carefully articulating each word, staring Kaidan down, “are on your own.”_ _

__“Approaching LZ.” Joker’s announcement broke some tension. And brought more of it at the same time._ _


	5. Chapter 5

Before the battle, Cortez’s masterfully efficient but ungentle diving and zigzagging to bring the Kodiak drop shuttle towards the surface had had Shepard, Tali, and Garrus holding on to the grab handles for dear life. But Shepard’s grip - too strong, too full of grief and rage combined had not escaped Garrus’ notice. At his show of compassion she had sighed, releasing a tiny fraction of the tension, and admitted she hardly recognised the place. Now, he wondered if enough remained to still consider what was left of this place - London. 

Garrus stopped paying attention to painful squeezes to his heart, and learnt to adjust to the feeling of his insides being divorced from gravity - as if there was nothing to hold on to, no ground, no anchor. Seeing Earth from above - still burning and gaping and unable to hide from its destruction, from its ruins and its dead - brought to mind everything: all their struggle, all the sacrifices, Shepard, Palaven... but he was lying to himself. Shepard came first. He suspected she in fact always had, ever since the Normandy SR-1, and always would come first. And now, on their approach he could see the Citadel. In Earth's orbit, the station looked - not beyond hope, but not inspiring much of it. The arms of the Wards were barely lit in uneven patches, whole parts of the structure scorched black or even and torn away; but its core was the worst of it. The Presidium Ring hardly existed anymore: where the Crucible had docked was now but a skeleton, crippled and charred, barely holding the arms of the Citadel together. There was not much else. Nowhere really to search for her. Garrus shook his head to get rid of the rising waves of the all-encompassing noise in his ears, but failed. 

Landing - disembarking - being taken to a building, the one standing, as if hunched, among the sprawling ruins of what used to be a straight, wide, dignified street. Everyone's reactions - to the Normandy, to _them_ as they walked through the rubble - _the cheers_ \- all was a blur. 

As they were led into a room by the Alliance military, Garrus still had not managed to clear his head enough to form an idea of what exactly was happening, but once the two marines guarding the door saluted them - saluted him, they found themselves face to face with a middle-aged human man: his right cheek crossed by an old, familiar scar, and his eyes - once so close in their blue to Garrus’ own - shimmering green.

Vega, Alenko, Joker saluted Admiral Hackett immediately, and Garrus’ military - turian - training overtook all other instincts as his arm went up as well. The Admiral responded in kind, or rather took it further: his initial long-held salute, utterly still, only the muscles of his face jerking, his lips tightening, morphed into an individual salute to _each_ of them followed by a handshake - strong and unyielding but somehow also conveying his more private, more human feelings of appreciation, respect, and grief for the lost, whom he could not afford to mourn, not in the open, not now. The Admiral extended his hand to EDI, too. She appeared startled at first, but shook it with just as much dignity as emotion. Garrus wondered briefly if this had been her first handshake, and noticed Joker straighten up just a little more at the sight of it. 

__Words like 'heroes’, and 'sacrifice’, and 'future’ and 'work’ rang through the room, but Garrus barely listened. He thought he caught something about promotions and honorary ranks but he cared not at all for medals._ _

__“Admiral,” he started, risking insubordination, and cleared his throat for his second larynx to resume its normal function and stop making his voice sound so broken._ _

__“Yes, Advisor Vakarian?” The Admiral's sharp as ever eyes were on him, as well as his seemingly full attention._ _

__“Have any …” Garrus fought with and swallowed 'rescue operations' before the words rolled off his tongue, “checks been conducted on the Citadel post-blast?”_ _

__“Yes. We sent two shuttles for assessment and possible rescue,” the man did not flinch, only his eyes narrowed near imperceptibly. “They found no survivors in what used to be the Presidium. Or any identifiable physical evidence or genetic material consistent with what we have on Shepard. They only brought back Anderson's dog tag. Can't say how thorough the sweep was I’m afraid, our resources were more than limited. But the Reapers were there as well, right from the start. Their data confirmed no signs of life either.” Garrus was listening with utmost care, parsing the information into facts and implications - no signs of life but no traces of her death either - but the last, jarring bit interrupted his calculations._ _

__“The Reapers?” By everyone else's looks Garrus realised he had asked what they were all thinking._ _

__“Yes.” A crease that crossed the Admiral's forehead for a moment made him uneasy. “This is all still very new. But we are learning to cooperate with them. They _offered_ their assistance, willingly. They were up there first in fact. Don't need to get together a crew or prep a shuttle,” he added with an air of surprise creeping into his features before he was back to his professional, concise self. “They've been feeding us extensive scans, but we haven't been able to allocate enough resources to analyse them from all possible angles.” _ _

__“Excuse the insubordination, Admiral, but I believe my processing power would be quite sufficient for extracting and analysing any useful data. If I could get access to it,” EDI offered. Hackett gave her a direct look, and Garrus wondered what was going through his head - that she was in fact an unshackled AI who now exhibited very human behaviour, or that she was originally a creation of Cerberus - and nodded._ _

__“Access granted. I’ll give the order. For the data _and_ for the shuttle.” At this the Admiral turned to Garrus. “We only have a small one to spare, for three passengers maximum, so pick your squad,” he said as if it had all been already agreed. Garrus nodded. “However, you’ll have to do without your Alliance companions on this mission.” Hackett eyed Kaidan, Vega and Joker. “You’re all called in for a debrief ASAP. Which is exactly when Advisor Vakarian will want to leave, I believe.” Garrus blinked at him in confusion. _ _

__“I, yes. Thank you, Admiral, I appreciate it.”_ _

__“I regret I can't be of more assistance. And,” he paused, turning slowly on his heel, “EDI, Dr. Chakwas has forwarded a brief report on your findings regarding the merging of organic and synthetic life.” It sounded so unreal when said out loud that way, even though every time their hands and heads turned at certain angles the light caught the green shimmer of the circuits under their skins; and each of them could feel how their bodies were healing faster, how their brains were working faster, too. “I would ask you to join Karin for the debrief as well. At your earliest convenience. I am aware assisting Advisor Vakarian’s mission will remain a priority.” Garrus wondered if everyone was as taken aback by this nearly unprecedented level of cooperation on the side of the Alliance, but most of them were probably still trying to figure out who Karin was._ _

__“My capacities will allow for simultaneous processes, Admiral, but if my personal presence is required I would prefer to decode and analyse the data first,” EDI said with a hint of interrogative at the end. Hackett nodded._ _

__“Good luck, Vakarian,” the Admiral shook his hand again, signalling both the end of their audience and the readiness for the hundreds of things next on his to-do list. Leaning a little closer, he added in a lower voice. “I hope you find her.”_ _

__“Thank you,” Garrus squeezed his hand back, “Admiral.”_ _

__“Oh, I nearly forgot to mention. You can talk to one of the crew who went up to the Citadel in the first shuttle. He’s waiting in the comms room down the corridor.”_ _

__It did not occur to Garrus to ask for a name, but the question turned out irrelevant anyway. As they entered, Tali, Javik and Liara following Garrus closely, a familiar bulk of a redheaded krogan spinned at them._ _

__“Wrex,” Garrus exhaled, extending a hand, “Good to see you alive.” His hand was grasped and most of his bones would rattle but for the protection of his carapace at the krogan’s hearty patting on his back._ _

__“Yeah. Glad you made it too, my spiky friend.”_ _

__“You’ve been there,” Garrus said without preamble. He knew Wrex understood._ _

__“Yeah. Tough shit, Garrus. The Presidium is a ruin. We found nothing.”_ _

__“‘Nothing’ as in nothing conclusive, or as in ‘nothing’ is a conclusion in itself?” Garrus was surprised how calm he sounded. Even his undertones, which had been singing of loss and pain and despair ever since they had left Earth after the blast, had quieted down._ _

__“Honestly? I don't know. From what I saw nothing could have survived that. But Shepard,” he shrugged, “…is Shepard. You never know with her. And we didn't have the Reapers’ data then.”_ _

__“Right. EDI just got access and the terminal she can work at,” Garrus tilted his head to the left to indicate - unnecessarily - the direction EDI had left. Wrex nodded._ _

__“We’ll be getting live updates. Good.”_ _

__“You coming then?” Garrus asked, and immediately looked away, feeling utterly stupid. Of course Wrex was coming. Even though their relationship had seen a few stormy clashes - or maybe precisely because of them? - Wrex was one of Shepard's closest - and dearest, Garrus knew, friends. And of course Wrex was not letting him off easy. The krogan plucked his shotgun out of its holster, balancing it in his hands just because it probably felt more natural for him to be holding a weapon than not, and stuck one foot out in a picture of a challenge._ _

__“Do you really have to ask that, turian?” There was no malice in his voice, just abundant annoyance._ _

__“Right,” Garrus - unexpectedly for himself - briefly gripped and patted Wrex’s shoulder. He avoided saying that he hoped the krogan would join him but that he might choose to be with his people - of whose losses Garrus had not even asked - but Shepard was his people too. He had called her his sister once after all. Garrus believed Wrex meant it, too. Turning to face the rest of the prospective team, and not minding anyone else's feelings much, he simply asked, “Tali, you're ready?” She had been quiet the whole time, focused, probably ready to defend her place on this squad. She nodded immediately. Liara’s face turned sour, and she looked about to say something, when Garrus remembered Javik's offer of help which he had in fact accepted. “Javik, sorry…”_ _

__“I know,” the prothean raised his hand, “there can be only three, and it is only right you three go.” At that, Liara twitched soundlessly. “You shouldn't waste time. We’ll go back to the Normandy.”_ _

__“Good idea.” Garrus expected Liara to protest, but she listened - to him or to Javik he did not know, did not care. “Let's go.”_ _

__***_ _

__An Alliance pilot was designated for the mission along with the shuttle. A man with a young-looking face - under the lines drawn on it by his recent experiences - saluted his greeting and got straight to business, standing at attention._ _

__“Corporal Vimer reporting for duty, sir. The shuttle’s prepped and ready to depart on your mark, sir.”_ _

__“At ease, Corporal,” Garrus extended a hand, “I’m Garrus Vakarian.”_ _

__“Advisor to Primarch Victus, one of Commander Shepard’s closest associates,” the man stood at attention again - as if almost involuntarily before finally relaxing his stance, “Hero of the Reaper War - although they'll likely name it differently now after the Synthesis. Honoured to have a chance to serve with you, sir.” Garrus was rendered speechless for a moment. He had got used to people knowing him, or rather _of_ him, since his time at the head of the turian Reaper task force - Garrus nearly smiled at the memory of Shepard accosting him so alluringly having witnessed a turian general salute him. But this human young man being so informed about him felt baffling. It was of course due to his connection to Shepard that he had slipped into so many articles and vids all over the extranet, and he wondered for a split second if his own story was worth any public interest on its own. There was his still - thankfully - secret identity as Archangel, of course, but hell, whom was he kidding. His story would not be _his_ without Shepard in it. He gave his head a brief shake. _ _

__“Synthesis?”_ _

__“That's what they're starting to officially call the merge of all sentient organic and synthetic life in the galaxy, sir.”_ _

__“Right,” Garrus broke the impulse to stare in the middle distance. “What is your name, Corporal Vimer?”_ _

__“Uh, David, sir.”_ _

__“Glad to have you on the team, David.” _I hope you get to meet Commander Shepard,_ Garrus thought. _ _

__

__

__They were off in precisely two minutes. David was well-informed about the situation on the Citadel - or should he say the wreckage of the Citadel, and announced they would only be able to dock in the Upper Wards, from where the squad would have to make their way fully suited._ _

__“At least we know more now than when the first recon teams went up there.”_ _

__“Wait,” Wrex said, pointing a finger at David. “You were there, weren't you? You look familiar, but I’ve been around too many of the same humans lately.”_ _

__“Yes, sir. I piloted the second shuttle.” At Garrus’ intense gaze, the young man elaborated, “M… uh, clan Urdnot leader was on the first shuttle.” Wrex snorted at the human’s confusion regarding a proper honorific to be used on his account, and turned to look through the shuttle window._ _

__“Still give me the itch under my plates,” Wrex growled at the sight of two Reapers latched on to the crippled structure of the Citadel._ _

__“As in they make you nervous?” Tali peeped._ _

__“As in I know I'm not supposed to anymore, but the instinct to bash and rip them apart is still there,” Wrex grumbled. “Don't worry,” he added grumpily, “I won't.”_ _

__***_ _

__The Wards looked bad._ _

__Garrus chose not to dwell on elaborate definitions in unlikely hope the simplicity would reduce the impact, and yet it was unmistakably, almost crushingly there._ _

__He used to patrol the never-safe nooks and crooked streets of the Wards inside the jungle of their skyscrapers back in his early C-Sec days. He would not claim to know - even less to like - the place as well as millions of its inhabitants, but he was not a stranger. And that made it tougher to see it like this: the rubble, the emptiness, the destruction. He thought of his tiny old flat in Bachjret Ward which had happened to be among the most heavily hit areas and thus no longer existed, and of Shepard's luxurious one in the Silversun Strip, which had been - along with the Normandy, but better - the closest thing to home both of them had had in many years. He knew Tiberius Towers had been damaged but still stood, although how much was left of the apartment, how many signs Shepard and himself had been there, lived there, _enjoyed their life and each other_ there for a short time - was not only unknown but unimportant._ _

__They made their way through the Upper Wards relatively quickly, Tali scanning the surroundings non-stop, comparing data, hoping; Garrus keeping track of EDI’s commentary and constant stream of information on both his omni-tool and visor. EDI was leading them, sounding mostly as an “old” EDI - detached, but at times he caught a brief breaking in her voice, or a hesitation. It did not look promising._ _

__They had to cling to the surviving parts of the structure to cross the link connecting one of the Wards arms to the Presidium Ring, helmets on and shields up. Breathable atmosphere systems had been one of the first to collapse, of course. Once there, Garrus fought for breath for a moment: his helmet was pumping oxygen just as it was supposed to, but he had miscalculated a bit when thinking he was prepared for the sight of it._ _

__The combined oppressive fullness - of the endless ruins, fragments, and debris surrounding them - and emptiness - the total absence of anything alive but the rugged breath in their three helmets heard over the comms - was heartbreaking. Once, he had found Shepard lying on the great big bed in her quarters, fully clothed, staring up at the stars, listening to music. He remembered joining her quietly, too tired and beaten for love, and simply holding her hand, and listening with her. He remembered the music: haunting, eerie female vocal, which made him shiver and grip Shepard’s hand stronger, and which made a tear escape from her left eye, across the spot where she had once - when he had just met her - had a scar. Garrus could almost hear that music in his ears now. It was the desolation, the hollowness. There used to be beauty and hope in it, too, he remembered. But he could not see it now. Not here. _If she was dead and watching him,_ he wondered, _was she hearing it now? Was she crying?_ He gasped. He needed a shake. This was not the way, he could not afford to fall apart there, even after they had already checked most of the likely areas and found nothing. _ _

__“EDI? Where next?” There was a pause._ _

__“I… made contact with the Reapers. The ones up there right now. I’m getting the blueprints now of the previously inaccessible areas, the ones only the Keepers used. I’ll forward them on to you.”_ _

__“Good.” He nodded as the squad members acknowledged hearing the plan._ _

__They moved on. Crawling, climbing, pulling the obstacles apart, shaking off the rubble, and finding more of the same - nothing, and destruction. The worst thing was that he could not feel anything. Garrus tried to imagine that she had walked - probably right here, tried to imagine what had happened, how she had activated the Crucible, what she had done next. She had to go for the beam to escape, but there were no traces of her along that route - or the ghost of what remained of it. He pushed through a gap - to check out where it led or to be alone for a moment he no longer knew - just as it collapsed behind him._ _

__“Garrus!” Tali screamed._ _

__“I’m alright,” he reassured, trying to get to his feet and seeing it was now too low for him to stand, and sinking to the floor._ _

__“I’ll get Wrex to clear this out. He’ll only be a moment.” Garrus nodded silently, not caring that she could not see him. _Was this it? She was not there. They could read no life signs at all, not even a vaguest trace. Were they in fact looking for proof that she was dead? But even that was eluding them._ Funny how he did not panic at the thought, but remained detached. _ _

__“EDI?” he opened a private comm link._ _

__“Yes?” she nearly whispered._ _

__“Her implants. They were made from the fancy stuff, uncommon materials. Can we look for traces of those?”_ _

__“I have already included them into the scan search, Garrus. Unfortunately, it’s… inconclusive. There are a lot of the same materials found in the Citadel structure itself. Reaper tech…”_ _

__“Right.” He breathed. “Is it possible… is it possible there remained no traces at all if she died in the blast?” It was a stupid question, and he knew it. Of course it was. It was the likeliest case. The blast had destroyed the Presidium, sent a shock wave which pushed the Normandy off its course, and travelled through to Charon Relay and on along the mass relay network. What did he expect to remain? Nothing. He wanted no remains. He wanted _her_. Alive. His. _ _

__EDI’s “Yes” was a breath more than a word. The panel in front of him moved with Wrex’s grunt, and a hand was extended for him. He considered refusing it for a moment, just staying there, looking until he finally got to a spot no one could prise him from, until he finally joined her. But that was no way. Not her way, not his. It was defeatist. Weak. Was he weak? Was he defeated?_ _

__“Garrus,” Tali’s omni-tool scanned him just as she asked worriedly, “you ok?”_ _

__“Not really.”_ _

__They understood._ _

__***_ _

__As the shuttle was leaving the Wards, David keeping respectful silence, Garrus stared at what had once been his favourite spot on the CItadel. The rooftops of the Presidium. Where she stupidly - and sweetly - had let him win. He still did not know for sure that she had, her explanation made sense - she was more of a “close quarters” girl, with her biotic charge, and her shotguns, but he doubted she could not hit that bottle. His mandibles twitched in a smirk._ _

__“What do you want to do next?” Tali asked quietly, inching closer to him._ _

__“Stay here?” he said before he gave it any thought. _Keep looking._ “Help with the reconstruction.”_ _

__“Are you sure? It’s… not the healthiest option. You’d just keep looking, and torturing yourself.” He exhaled loudly and turned his head away, but Tali’s hand rested on his forearm. “Garrus, I’d go with you, every time, but you’ve seen it there. We won’t find anything. I’m so sorry.” He looked away from her trembling voice._ _

__“What do you think I should do?”_ _

__“You have family. Find them.” That stung. He did have a family - his sister and his father had escaped Palaven, and could still be alive. And he had not thought of them lately, at all. It was entirely possible that the only thing he would find there was more loss. But it was something to do. Something worth doing. He was the one for knowing after all. He might also be the one for hoping, for he still could not say it to himself that it was over - Shepard was gone. He had lost her, again. This time for good. Probably._ _

__“Yeah, you’re right. What about yourself? What would you like to do?”_ _

__“I’d love to go to Rannoch,” she shrugged. “The place is waiting for me to build that home. But seeing we have no mass relays at the moment, there's no way to cover the distances to Perseus Veil on FTL alone. I guess the quarians are back to living on the flotilla for now. There’ll likely be a lot of work too. I mean our liveships will be the only ones able to grow food for both quarians and turians. I’d like to help there.”_ _

__“Right. I haven’t thought about that.”_ _

__“Do you think you might want to… be part of the joint effort? We both have experience working with our two races, as well as with humans and the krogan, we could make a difference there. We could work together,” she added hopefully._ _

__“I’m not one for diplomacy,” he shook his head. “I’ll need to see the Primarch first,” he rubbed at his head, but all it seemed to accomplish was spread the heavy waves of the headache more thoroughly around it. He sighed and took Tali’s hand. “Thank you, Tali. And I’m sorry.” He did not know what he was apologising for, but he felt compelled to._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a tough chapter to write - and sorry for the heartbreak. :( It will get better though, I promise.


	6. Chapter 6

He left. 

To Tali's pleas to take at least one of them along, to talk, to wait, and - please, Garrus, please - he only said “I’ll be back.” He gave no promise not to do anything stupid. He heard Wrex tell Tali to let him go. As if she - as if any of them - could stop him.

Not knowing where he was going, Garrus turned away from the makeshift Alliance headquarters, and there, just a few feet away, was an empty X3M waiting; and without thinking, he jumped in and keyed in to its haptic adaptive interface, and swirled the skycar around. And away. It was of no importance where he went, he needed a moment alone, needed to not have to face the compassion and sadness and loss in everyone else’s eyes. It was not like him to think _his_ loss was bigger and heavier than that of others, but it sure felt that way. He was disgusted by this self-pity, and could not deal with the pity from others right then. 

The skycar swooshed, taking sudden, reckless turns - or they would be reckless in the presence of other traffic. He was alone. He truly was, he thought. And at that moment he regretted this shuttle was equipped with the holographic interface and controls which answered to the sensors in his gloves so seamlessly. He envied that satisfaction - or at least the release - he had seen in old human vids, where a character in distress would bang on the steering wheel of a car that ran on turning wheels and was limited to moving only on the ground. He remembered being surprised at such a reaction when he and Shepard had first come across it in a vid they watched together - what use was it to be angry at a machine? Her face had managed an impossible grimace then - a sad smirk.

“Sometimes it's all you can do in terms of anger management and… dealing with shit,” she had shrugged. “Sometimes it's all you have. Besides, if you hit the steering wheel right,” she had added with a devious grin, “it honks frantically. Very satisfying.” He remembered that evening so well now. How a single scene in a near ancient vid had led them to share memories of their early lives, stories that were new for each other - and fascinating. Because of course Shepard - an experienced and excellent shuttle pilot - had driven a human ground car before. He had thought it a privilege then - rare few ever got to use a piece of historic equipment. She had corrected him - at times it was not because you were privileged, or not even because you were just like everybody else. But because, unlike himself, Jane had not started a military boot camp at turning fifteen years old: she had still lived in the streets, and run with a gang which still used ground cars…

Garrus made a sound, which his second larynx had probably already produced before. If so, the likely occasion would have been on Omega. There had in fact been two likely occasions during his time there… A horrid, raw keening sound he found difficult to ascribe to himself erupted from his mouth twisted in agony. He would allow himself this moment of weakness, the moment of defeat, the moment of utter and complete emptiness he doubted he would ever be able to fill.

About an hour of aimless flight over the varying stages of destruction in - a part of him wanted to see them as various stages of repair that they were - Garrus felt a kind of stillness, numbness settle over him that he could work with. This state was devoid of acceptance and heavy with grief just below the surface, but at least that thin layer of armour would allow him to face others, to keep on living, at least for another day. She would not have him defeated, and he would try not to be. 

Back at the Alliance HQ he parked the shuttle exactly where he had hijacked it from, and went looking for someone in charge, ready to face - maybe even looking for - whatever consequences. A human marine walked towards him calmly, stopped two places in front and saluted. 

“I… need to report the unauthorised use of this shuttle,” Garrus started past the introductions. 

“Is it still operational, sir?”

“Yeah,” Garrus mumbled, confused, “yes, of course it is. I haven't crashed it, or caused it any kind of damage.”

“Then all’s in order, sir. Thank you.” The man saluted again. Garrus opened his mouth, trying to form some words but too stunned at the apparent absence of sanctions.

“Should I… report to someone else on this matter?”

“No, sir. I got clear instructions - there's no need for me to detain you any further, sir,” the soldier said somberly. Garrus wondered if he knew. Knew who he was, knew what had happened, or had not happened. He had failed to bring Commander Shepard back. Garrus swallowed hard. 

“I realise it is insufficient, but I do apologise for the disruption I caused,” Garrus said, trying and failing to remember the man’s name from his introduction, “Gunnery Chief.” 

“It was a close call,” a shadow of a smile crossed the man’s face, “but there’s been no disruptions.” He left with a final salute, and Garrus wondered how that human stranger’s almost-smile gave him a moment’s respite, a ghostly grounding. He exhaled noisily, rubbing at the back of his neck and then at his forehead and swiping the heel of his palm up towards his crest, as if shedding the veil hanging over his face. He had to go. See his friends - the motley crew he had learnt to see as his second family, just family. And his compatriots - the Primarch, who probably had a task - or a few hundred - ready for him. He was needed - probably. He could find meaning again in being of use - perhaps. 

He decided to find Wrex and Tali first - they deserved to know he had returned, deserved his gratitude. Besides, they were probably the only ones - besides EDI, who knew everything that had happened up on the ruins of the Citadel and who would not ask him any questions about that. It was weird to be saluted by every human marine and nodded deeply and respectfully by the few asari he met on his way, but Garrus had no energy to wave them off. He responded to the greetings when he noticed them early enough, but knew he was still out of sync, distant, and aloof. He did not feel like asking anyone, or circling around the large building, so he opened a private comm channel to EDI to ask if she knew where Tali and Wrex were. Of course she knew. As she replied after a momentary check of the information, he realised she was still in a meeting - but she said nothing about that. 

“Can I do anything else for you, Garrus?”

“No. Thank you, EDI.” People were doing him favours, he realised. And for a moment he despised himself - and even them - for that. He shook his head as he approached the indicated area: a cluster of small rooms all running away from a larger space which currently served as a makeshift mess hall. Unaware of his friends’ precise location, Garrus started from the door at his 9 o’clock - the first one on his left, as was his… it was Shepard’s routine for groundside and unfamiliar spacecraft missions. 

He heard them before he found them in a room with the door ajar further down the 2 o’clock narrow corridor cluttered with crates. They were clearly alone - as he did not believe they would otherwise be discussing what they were.

“What?!” the air whistled through Tali’s breathing tubes with the burst of her reaction. Garrus halted. 

“I asked how long you’ve had feelings for him,” Wrex repeated calmly - and one could even say warmly? kindly? - if they were not speaking of the krogan with an explosive character. 

“Wrex, you don’t know what you’re saying, don’t be ridiculous,” Tali’s voice quivered, and Garrus could hear she was pacing. He hugged the wall, suddenly overcome by an expectation of a new kind of terror. 

“Knock it off, kid. You know you can talk to me. You know I can see it on you. He is my friend, and Shepard is like a sister to me.” Garrus slid down the wall, breathless. “But it’s fucking different when _you_ looked at Garrus there.” There was a gasp - almost a sniffle, before Tali replied. 

“It’s… what you’re saying… Wrex, this is… it makes no sense. I… I feel so sad for him.”

“I do too. But I don’t want to jump in bed with him at the same time,” the krogan said matter-of-factly. “Look, I’m not judging you, or anything. I just wondered if you even admitted this to yourself, Tali.”

“No,” she whispered, and Garrus felt like he could not breathe. What was going on was too much, too wrong, all just wrong. “It’s not that,” Tali said finally. “I love him, as a friend.” Wrex snorted. Tali went on regardless, with a slight tremble in her voice. Garrus listened as if through a thick wrapping around his head - he felt just like he had just had another concussion. “Ok, there is probably something more to it than just a friend. But Wrex, I’ve never given it any serious thought, I’ve never planned to act on it - I’d never do something like that to him, or to Shepard. I loved her, truly. And now…” There was a pause. A silence, unbroken by any movement. 

“Now he’s alone,” Wrex said simply. “It might be better for him if he wasn’t.”

“I could never replace Shepard,” Tali whispered viciously. “I would never even think of trying.” 

“I never said you should.” Garrus’ keel rose and fell with his erratic breathing; his hands wandered across the floor around him, as if looking for something to grip. He grasped the wall, tried standing up, and slipped back down, smashing a crate. 

“Keelah!” Tali appeared through the door with Wrex on her heels. The krogan sighed and slumped his shoulders as Tali knelt down beside Garrus. “Garrus, I’m so sorry you heard this. I’m so sorry… it’s like this.” She tried to lift him up, but he refused, shaking his head.

“Is it... true?” He could not decide how to feel about it. He might have been flattered at another time - now he felt nearly betrayed. Tali swallowed audibly. 

“I’ll give you guys a moment.” Wrex squeezed past them.

“Stay.”

“No.” Tali and Garrus’ response was simultaneous.

“I don’t know, Garrus, honestly. And I feel terrible talking about this _now_.”

“I wanna know.” _I want to know where I stand_ , he thought, _I want to know if I have to lose a friend today, too._

“Ok,” she nodded. “I… had… some feelings for you. Oh, Keelah, it’s like this. I used to have a crush on you, Garrus. A crush that a young girl might have. But there’s more. You can call me impressionable, but I had a crush on Shepard, too. And then, when the two of you got together, I was so happy for you, and I guess… I had a crush on the two of you together. On that something special you found among all the madness. But I’d never do anything… Shepard, she became like a sister to me - she was the only one who saw me without my helmet, Garrus. The only one I trusted that much. And you… I’d never do anything to hurt you. I... don’t think I’m in love with you. Not anymore. But I’ll always love you - and Shepard.” She faltered. “There’s nothing in the way of our friendship, Garrus. Believe me.” Garrus envied humans then - for being able to press comfortably against walls with their unarmoured flat backs - as he bent his legs, put his elbows on his knees and hid his face in his hands. _Why won’t this hell of a day just finish? Or even better - just turn out to be a nightmare?_

“Garrus?” With Tali’s quiet call came Wrex’s big hand. Garrus allowed himself to be pulled up to standing. 

“Yeah. It’s ok, Tali.” He avoided looking at her directly. “Let’s not talk about this anymore.” She nodded, and he continued. “After I tell you that I can’t offer you anything. _Anything _but my friendship - however little that’s worth. There’s nothing else. There can be nothing else.” He finally faced her, catching a glint of her shiny eyes behind her visor.__

__“That’s more than I could ask for.”_ _

__“Come on,” Wrex slapped his hand on Garrus’ carapace. “You gotta grab something to eat.” Garrus nodded absently._ _

__***_ _

__The certainty of how many days had passed since his return from the wreck of the Citadel eluded Garrus. The time became so relative he did not bother to keep it. He was aware of things happening - around him, to him, or with his participation. He had met the rest of the Normandy crew, most of them anyway. By the time Garrus remembered to ask about him, Kaidan had left London. They said he had been rough and bitter, which was safe to assume belonged within the range of normal after everything; but the human biotic had managed to shock most._ _

__“What?” Garrus blinked in confusion at Vega’s large frame as he shrugged, the ridiculous bulge of the muscles in his back rippling under a shirt as he mixed his coffee._ _

__“He did. I mean, I thought he was crazy to refuse the Normandy, but he said he wasn't about to stay with the Alliance. Loco.” He sipped the drink, cringing at the apparently inadequate taste._ _

__“Alenko leaving the Alliance is… it doesn't make sense. Doesn’t sound real.”_ _

__“What does lately?” James shrugged again and, likely catching himself on the implications, turned away and fiddled with spoons on the counter. “Anyway, if Spectre business is more alluring to him, I say let him go. Might even say 'good riddance’,” he added quietly. Garrus’ brow plates shot up in surprise._ _

__“I could have sworn you respected the Major, James.”_ _

__“I did. More from what I’d heard about him before I met him than through his recent behaviour though. Besides, him being gone puts me next in line to the throne.” The man gave a slow, careful chuckle. Fairly certain Vega had no connection to any monarchy, Garrus had no idea what he was talking about. James sighed exaggeratedly. “Hackett promised me the command of the Normandy. After I’m done with my N7 training.”_ _

__“Oh.”_ _

__“Yeah.”_ _

__Garrus looked around, searched inside for something to say, something to feel._ _

__“Congratulations, James. I'm glad it’ll be you.”_ _

__“Really, Scars?” the man sounded genuinely worried. “Thanks, man. I mean I feel like a kid who’s given a too grown-up toy here, but… it's more than I could ever hope to achieve.” His voice became quiet and dull._ _

__“I'm sure you're up to it. Shepard believed you could do it, didn't she?” James’ eyes darted to Garrus’ in near panic._ _

__“The N7 programme, yes. I wouldn't have enlisted without her.”_ _

__“You’re leaving soon then?” Garrus felt unable to dwell on _her_ now - or rather have yet another layer of his psyche be occupied with her, as most others already were every minute of however much time had passed. _ _

__“Yeah. Not far though - to Rio.”_ _

__“Hmm?”_ _

__“Rio de Janeiro. The ICA is there.”_ _

__“Right. The Interplanetary Combatives Academy,” Garrus nodded, remembering. Shepard had told him some bits and pieces about her own time there. “You know how long the training will take?”_ _

__“A lot shorter than it would have actually.” Vega stood his mug on the counter - a bit too strong or too careless, letting some of the brownish drink spill. “Shit, Scars, I don't know if I should even talk to you about that.”_ _

__“No problem. I understand if it's classified,” Garrus waved him off._ _

__“What the… ?” The human’s face scrunched up in what Garrus interpreted as confusion. “No, it's not that,” James exhaled forcibly through his nose. “It's about Shepard.”_ _

__“What about her?” Garrus noted how calm his voice sounded - or rather how impassive. How struggling to deceive._ _

__“She… she did something for me. I told you she’d encouraged me to accept the N7 offer, but I learnt just a couple of days ago that she’d actually contacted the “N-School”. Filed a report on my performance as a member of her squad, listed my… achievements, whatever they were. She’d pointed out that a lot of my work with her was in fact direct combat experience in conflict zones throughout the galaxy. Which falls under what they do for the N6 grade training. So it turns out I’ve already covered lots of what N2 to N6 consist of. And she vouched for my successful completion of those tasks. I can't believe she’d do that.”_ _

__“You never asked her to do it, and she never told you she had,” Garrus stated, staring in the middle distance._ _

__“Of course not.”_ _

__“You should just accept it. I'm sure she meant every good word she said about you. And every curse word as well.” The way his mandibles flicked in a genuine smile right then was a mystery to Garrus himself._ _

__“Thanks, man,” Vega chuckled._ _

__***_ _

__Days kept piling up. People kept going. Some left, some remained - having assumed new posts, or just new responsibilities in this new world they were all trying to rebuild. That was Garrus’ main focus now - something to keep him busy, to keep him distracted from the tight grip grief had on his insides. So all he did was work a lot - and try to find his family._ _

__The last time he had heard from his father and sister was after their escape from Palaven. Now the communication systems and extranet were still in the state of half-repair - although with the Reapers’ help and everyone’s newfound capabilities, the technology was getting fixed and even upgraded so much faster than it would have been possible just a couple of months before. It took him nearly three weeks to reach his sister._ _

__“Sol? Hey!” He stared at the jumpy holographic image emitted by his omni-tool, relief washing over him just as his heart remained locked in a painful squeeze._ _

__“Garrus. Spirits, I’m so happy to see you, brother.” He strained to get a better look at her eyes - once as blue as his own - which now showed the same green glow as everyone else’s._ _

__“Yeah. Yeah, me too. How are you? Is Dad with you?”_ _

__“We’re fine. I mean, it’s the way it is,” she shrugged as if apologising for the current state of events in the galaxy, ”but we’re alright. We aren’t hurt, and we got a place to stay. It’s not home, but,” she shrugged again. This Sol felt different - Garrus did not remember seeing his sister so uncertain, so lacking in confidence. Maybe once, he corrected himself - when their mother had been dying, and there had been nothing more they could do._ _

__“... talking to?” a muffled voice broke through the comms - strength and control in every sound that left their father’s mouth._ _

__“Yes, father’s here, as you can hear,” Solana smirked. She grunted as the large frame of their father hung over her. “He wants to talk to you, I’m guessing.” She left with a smile._ _

__“Garrus.”_ _

__“Father.” It took Garrus a moment to collect himself, to remember to ignore how intimidating that man could be. “Good to see you’re well. Um, where exactly are you? I haven’t managed to…”_ _

__“Digeris. Turned out to be a good choice. The Reapers only sent light forces here, we were able to repel the bastards. There are losses and damage, of course, but not as severe as on Palaven, or elsewhere. At least we’re in the home cluster,” he added proudly. His ever-pragmatic father, and yet as patriotic as can be. Such a perfect turian. Garrus suppressed a snort. There was likely no way for him to impress his father - and he had stopped trying, or even wanting to do that some years ago - but he felt sad the two of them would never really be able to understand each other, or to be close._ _

__“Good. I’m glad.”_ _

__“You’re still on Earth?”_ _

__“Yeah,” Garrus’s heart dropped in anticipation of further questions._ _

__“Was a tough fight.” Castis Vakarian’s eyes bore into his son’s with no evident emotion. “Shame you didn’t manage to just vaporise them all.” Garrus let out a slow, controlled exhale._ _

__“Reapers are no longer a threat. The war ended, Father. With a lot fewer casualties and less destruction than would have happened had we tried to pursue the Reapers’ full annihilation.”_ _

__“Yes, well, who made that choice? How did that even happen? You should know. You were on that big-shot human’s team, weren’t you?” Big-shot human. Garrus swallowed. It was probably good they were not talking face to face - he could not vouch for his self-control now._ _

__“Yeah. We don’t know the details though.”_ _

__“We? Or you personally?”_ _

__“Spirits, Dad, what do you want from me?” Garrus’ voice rose, his undertones clearly signalling his frustration and anger. “Don’t you know? Don’t you care even a little?”_ _

__“About Shepard being dead you mean? You got all so sentimental, son, so emotional. That’s why I never really liked interspecies squads. Risk of losing a bit of one’s identity,” he mumbled, as if to himself, shaking his head and looking away. He met Garrus’ eyes again. “I’m a turian, Garrus. And so are you. I realise and admit it is regrettable Commander Shepard died in the course of the mission, but it was expected. If what they say about her is true, she knew the risks, must have been prepared for them. At least one must respect that she took them anyway. I respect that. Look at the results, Garrus. The losses were high, yes, but not that devastating. We will rebuild. We already are. I don’t see why you should be so broken-up about it. At least she died honorably.” Garrus’ breath came in short panicked gasps._ _

__“I gotta go.”_ _

__“Of course. Just one more thing, is that true you’re working closely with the Primarch?” Garrus killed the comms._ _

__He squatted down, tried to gain some control through his rattling breaths. _She died honorably._ He cared not for such honour. He cared for her. _ _

__His ‘tool flared with a call just as he dragged himself to sit against a wall. Sol._ _

__“Hey.” His sister and him had not been on the best of terms in recent years, what with him never explaining why he had thrown away his C-Sec career and never saying where he was and what he was doing. But he hoped that connection between them since they were kids was still alive, possible to rekindle. She took a long look at him, and sighed._ _

__“Garrus, I’m sorry.”_ _

__“If you’re apologising for Father, then save your breath, Sol.”_ _

__“No. I’m sorry about Shepard. I know you spent years doing some tough work together, some unbelievable, impossible things, from what I gathered. I understand that losing her can be hard for her squadmates. She seemed like a very strong and capable leader.” Garrus broke down into hysterical laughter. “Brother?” He just shook his head as the laughter turned to the beginnings of those terrible keening noises. “Oh, spirits. She … she was so much more, wasn’t she? She… You… You loved her, didn’t you?”_ _

__“I still do, Sol. Don’t think I can ever stop.” Solana clasped her free hand over her mouth._ _

__“I’m so sorry, Garrus. So sorry.” He just nodded, looking elsewhere._ _

__“Yeah,” he finally managed with a sniff._ _

__“What are you going to do?” she asked quietly._ _

__“Keep working,” he said, suddenly finding the strength to get up to his feet. “There’s a lot of work to go around, luckily. I became the first advisor and basically Primarch Victus’ right hand. The Hierarchy had me ascend through a heap of tiers, which I really, really, so don’t care about,” he said passionately. “Father’d be delighted,” he scoffed. Solana cringed._ _

__“I hope you can find some peace, Garrus.” He nodded thoughtfully._ _

__“I’ll settle with finding more work,” he smiled weakly. “Thanks, Sol. You have no idea how much this means.”_ _

__“You’re my brother. And despite that fact I actually love you.” He let out a laugh and felt immeasurably grateful to her. “I’m sorry I can’t help more.”_ _

__“You helped. Trust me.” He sighed. “I really gotta go now, but… I’d love to talk to you again soon.”_ _

__“Of course.”_ _

__“There are indications that the Reapers will have a few mass relays restored in just a couple of months. I’ll be taking off for Palaven with Victus then. Might manage to actually see you in person.” This time she nodded._ _

__“Still - I’ll be calling you before.”_ _

__“You do that. Bye, Sol.”_ _

__***_ _

_Garrus did not even blink at the blaring sound that was a warning of the Reapers’ attack. He kept walking along a long, vaguely-lit corridor. To his surprise, his hands were not holding a weapon. He reached behind his back, tapped at his hips, slid his hands down to his boots, but there was nothing there either, not even a knife. Somehow, this did not worry him. He felt driven by an immense sense of purpose - and just followed his own feet bringing him somewhere. Somewhere important. There was something very important there. Someone…_

__

__

_Suddenly, he found himself in a room, without remembering how he got there. He started turning around slowly, when a hand gripped his shoulder. He spun around._

_“Hi, Garrus.” Her lopsided smile stretched into a grin as she blinked a stray lock of copper-red hair from her glowing green eyes._

__“Shepard!” Garrus jolted up in bed, panting. “Shepard,” he repeated, sinking down. “This is just cruel of you, Shepard. But it was so good to see you,” he whispered, burrowing his face into the pillow._ _


	7. Chapter 7

It was strange to be back on Palaven - the silver homeworld which was no longer silver. Instead, it was full of ash and dust and ruin, the magnificent fortresses of its fortified cities brought down, most cities themselves pulverised in the deadly fight against the Reapers. The Reapers who now walked the surface of his planet again - this time rebuilding it. That still felt strange, too. 

Garrus looked out of the window of one of the very first rebuilt structures on Palaven, rubbing and stretching the stiff joints in his neck with a low grunt. He was safe from anyone hearing him complain in his private quarters assigned by Victus. The apartment caused mixed feelings: it was a welcome comfort after the tents pitched over the levelled battlefields and makeshift barracks later - and yet, the privacy came at a price of being alone with himself, his thoughts and feelings. And lately - his dreams. 

Luckily, he was already sleeping alone in his simple rooms that first time he had dreamt of Shepard. And every time after that he woke up aching. Garrus did not deem himself poetic enough to state his heart ached each time he saw her face in a dream - alive, different, new and changed like all of them now, and yet so _her_ \- he just noted his body feeling drained and riddled with annoying little pains. It was not solely due to the lack of quality sleep, he knew - the hours he put in and the intensity of work had to have their effect. He considered using stims again, but found it too distasteful that the last time he had partaken had been on Omega, while grieving the loss of so many - Shepard among them, for the first time. It was wiser and braver - or more masochistic? - to keep his head clear. 

He had dreamt of her several times now. She did not seem to have a regular schedule, but kept interfering with his sleep - or making those couple of hours worthwhile really. Garrus wondered why it had taken nearly a year for him to start dreaming of her, but he welcomed her appearance nonetheless, and puzzled over it in his rare moments of leisure. 

A knock on the door broke his ruminations. 

“May I?” Victus asked, moving a few datapads he clutched behind his back, as if to show he was not there for work. 

“Sure,” Garrus nodded towards the inside of the room. 

“You’ve looked better, Garrus,” the Primarch stated with a bit of genuine concern and a bit of a snark only present between friends. Garrus asked himself if that was what they really were, and felt surprised. 

“So have you, Adrien.” The first-name basis was surely indicative, but it was being the first to stand on the soil of their ruined but not lost home together, and pushing themselves and others near breaking point to make it a place for living again, was what had forged a bond between them in the last few months.

“So they keep telling me,” the other turian smirked with a twitch of a mandible. “I want you to take a few hours off today.” Garrus’ brow plates climbed up, then furrowed, then set firmly and defiantly as he leaned against a wall, arms crossed. 

“I'm sure I don't look too bad to fulfill my duties,” he challenged. 

“Spirits, stop - how do humans put it? - fishing for compliments, Vakarian. I'm not interested in flirting with you. I saw your sister's arriving today,” he waved one of the datapads. 

“Yeah,” Garrus cleared his throat. 

“I want you two to spend some time together, but it’ll basically be work anyway. Show her around, give her these,” he discarded most of the datapads on the desk which also served as a table. “We want her to start working ASAP, so some family time will hopefully reduce the shock of arrival.” Victus allowed himself to look truly tired now as he rubbed at the white colonial markings across his brow. 

“Come on, it's looking better already,” Garrus noted sincerely. “At least 43% of water supplies are recovered. We made a good start on the power supplies. Much thanks to your efforts.” He was glad he could actually approve of their current Primarch. He respected his selflessness, his hard work, and his disregard for ranks and superficial rules. Garrus appreciated the Primarch taking quarters in just another set of rooms in that very building - albeit a larger one on a higher floor than his own. It did not mean they were doing away with the hierarchy altogether, but it not being their leader’s main focus was a rare relief. 

“This is going nowhere but towards me praising _your_ work now, so let's just stop it there,” Victus let out a tired little smirk. “Seriously though, I’m glad we’ll have another highly capable engineer - and you’ll have some family around. How’s your father taking it?”

“As well as one would expect of Castis Vakarian,” Garrus shrugged, moving towards the kitchen unit for a packet of prepackaged dextro coffee the quarians came up with - the packaging only required breaking off of the seal and shaking for the hot drink to be ready. Garrus showed one to Victus by way of an offer and received an accepting nod in response. “He finds it hard to accept Palaven needs more engineers than retired C-Sec officers.” Victus nodded, without voicing any opinions on Garrus’ familial situation he was already familiar with. 

“I’ll be glad to meet Solana. I’m sure she’ll be just as valuable to us as her brother. And hopefully more attractive.” Garrus turned to the laughing Primarch with a pointing finger on the hand that passed him the coffee. 

“Forget about it.” Garrus’ brotherly possessiveness and the need to protect Sol took himself by surprise. “Let's talk work.”

***

There was no terminal as such there yet, so a few hours later Garrus arrived at the designated but not otherwise equipped landing zone and stood near, fully suited up and shielded. However unforgiving Palaven’s atmosphere might have been in the past, now the environment was truly their worst enemy. He flicked through the data on his omni-tool, checking today’s air pollution levels. They had been coming down steadily in the few months since their return, but the remaining dust and smoke from the pulverised cities were a breathing hazard still. That was why the cargo ship which would bring Solana here also carried a large crew of scientists, engineers, and medics. 

As she stepped out, Garrus realised with a bit of a shock that today was only the second time he ever saw his sister in full armour, helmet on. The first time had been when the two of them happened to accidentally visit their parents at the same time while on their obligatory service in the military. So many years - and a lifetime of events - ago. 

“Hey, little brother,” she said a little shakily, her nervous smile almost at level with his - she was nearly as tall as himself. 

“Hey, Sol.” He put a tentative hand on her shoulder. “Welcome back to what will be home again one day.” Her face plates rearranged into a pained grimace, but she nodded resolutely, gave him a warmer smile, and finally pulled him closer.

“Come here. I'm so happy to see you,” she whispered through an awkward armoured hug, and as they parted, Garrus bumped his forehead - his helmet - briefly to hers. 

“It's good to see you too, sis. Come, I’ll give you a quick tour. Your things will be delivered… ugh, we actually need to discuss that.” Garrus stopped. “Most newcomers will be stationed in the barracks, but I have a place in one of the permanent buildings. It's nothing fancy, but it's two rooms, and you’re welcome to one of them. Or, if it's too awkward to share, it's fine if you take both. I’ll just switch back to the barracks until they find me another spot.”

“Are those the barracks?” Solana pointed to long, converted from basic shipping containers structures set up to the East of their position. 

“Yeah. They’re not as bad inside.” 

“I'm happy to share if you are, Garrus.”

“Really?” Having failed to catch his surprise spilling out, he coughed and cleared his throat. “Sure. I’ll be glad to.” 

“I'm taking the pick of the room though,” she challenged with a laugh which only contained a little effort. 

“Now that's the big sister I remember from my childhood,” Garrus chuckled, and got a not-too-gentle swat on his arm.

“You used to be a pain in the ass as a kid, now you're just an ass.” She laughed now, for the first time since her landing - truly. 

***

Living together took some getting used to, but turned out better than Garrus had expected: they always had work to discuss, arguing about different ways of doing the same things, coming to agreements more often than not, accepting the other’s innovative idea, or simply a new point of view. Between those, they talked of their childhood, compared the happy moments they remembered, and filled in the gaps in each other’s lives of the last few years. They grew closer, and Garrus felt as if a part of him was warming back, allowing someone into his personal space, accepting the fact that someone cared for him. His sister became the family he was not aware he missed. 

It was weeks since Sol had occupied his bedroom, leaving Garrus in possession of the larger living-room, with its small couch, a hammock-bed, and a desk - which suited him just fine. 

He was unsure what woke him up: the crash of his own body hitting the floor having fallen out of the hammock, or the dream which had caused him to twist so violently in it. Sol ran into the room and switched on the light. 

“Garrus, are you ok?”

“Mhm,” he grunted, disentangling himself from the canvas, and rubbing groggily at his head. He had bumped it on the floor along with the left knee and a couple of ribs. “Light bruising max,” he estimated. Solana brought a tube of medigel and helped him up on the couch. She swatted his hand away as he reached for the tube, ordered him to lift his tunic, and started applying the gel on the spot which was quite apparent. As the gel got absorbed, the green of the circuitry within his plates lit up brighter there: all those nanites would come handy this time, speeding up the healing. 

“Nightmares?” She asked without meeting his eyes, gently rubbing the medigel into his ribs. Garrus probed and rubbed the tender spot on his head again, just like a kid. Laughed at himself, hitching from the pain, and sighed. 

“Actually, no. I dream of her, Sol.” He felt immense gratitude to his sister who did not need to be explained who that _her_ was. Her hands only paused momentarily, but, finished with his side, she pulled his tunic down and moved to his face, now looking him straight in the eyes. 

“What do you see?”

“Her. Like I’ve never seen her - like she would be now, after the Synthesis. She talks to me, smiles, calls for me sometimes. But I always have to look for her. And there are always Reapers.” Solana’s hand gripped his shoulder in silent support. “You know, sometimes I think,” he started, but faltered, meeting the shimmering green of his sister’s - like everyone’s now - eyes. Yet Shepard’s would have been greener - he was certain. 

“Yes?” 

Garrus was uncertain if he should tell anyone, even Sol, what he really thought - but the burden pressed on him to be shared. 

“I think, what if I just didn't look hard enough? What if she is alive, somewhere?” A pained grimace flickered across Solana’s face plates. 

“Wouldn't she find you? Contact you?”

“What if she just can't?”

“How is that possible, Garrus?” The question was not a harsh one meant to crush his empty hopes - or rather highly unhealthy delusions. It was calm, it was almost like back when he was a school kid she would help him solve a problem only by asking him the right questions, guiding him, but making him find the answers himself. 

“I don't know. But she could be somewhere without comms - tons of places like that in the galaxy right now. Or she could be...I don't know, held somewhere. It happened before with Cerberus. Or she could be injured and unable to contact me.” He faced Solana with what he suspected was a pleading look in his own eyes. “But what if she's out there, Sol? What if she is alive?”

“You will never forgive yourself for not trying hard enough. And your definition of “hard enough” is not only demanding but fluid,” she simply agreed, and stood up to store away the medigel and pour two glasses of water from their drinking water tank fitted with a filter. She sat back next to him, handed him a glass, took a sip from her own. “Do you have any ideas? How can I help?” 

That took him completely by surprise. 

“You’d help me look for Shepard? Even if she is really dead, and that's the only end result I’ll ever arrive at?” 

“I don't think anything - although rebuilding Palaven probably comes relatively close - is more important to you than that, little brother. That's reason enough for me.” He stared at her, swallowing - hard and often, and blinking. 

“I do have an idea,” he finally managed. “It might sound like I’m insane, because it makes perfect sense that I see them in my dreams along with her, but I can't get rid of the feeling there’s something about the Reapers… The Synthesis was Shepard's doing. The Reapers must know that. What if they know more about her? With all the information they’ve been sharing so far, so much knowledge they’re willing to pass on, there’s a chance they know _something_. Isn't there?” He searched Sol’s face eagerly for reaction. Her mandibles flipped to the sides, forming a cheeky grin. 

“That's actually less crazy than I expected.” Garrus doubted briefly, but finally allowed for a smirk of his own. “So where do we start? Do you think it makes sense asking _any_ Reaper? Asking every one of them would certainly be problematic.”

“No, of course not,” he waved her off, and jolted up, immediately launching into excited pacing across the small room. “The ones we have here are the Builders - ex-Destroyers, the Processors, and Transports, with only an occasional Capital Ship. I believe only them, the Sovereign-class, can be of use. So it makes sense to find some of those.” He felt feverish, with his mind flicking through calculations, and his heart suspended in an impossible hope. “Maybe even Harbinger,” he added nearly conspiratorially, sending a grin spreading across his face that humans would call wolfish. 

“Well,” Solana slapped her knees and stood up, “glad to see you aren't aiming low, brother. How do we find Harbinger then?”

“I think I know someone who might help.” Garrus was glad now he had shared the stories about his shipmates - his friends - from the Normandy with his sister. 

“The Shadow Broker or EDI? Or both?” she asked.

“I’d start with EDI. We parted on way better terms.”

“You never said you had a disagreement with Liara?”

“Not a disagreement. It was just… emotional luggage… after everything.”

“Ah. I think it's “baggage”, but I'm not an expert on human language.”

“Then why are you so smug about it?” 

“Runs in the family,” she shrugged. “Call EDI then. First thing tomorrow.”

“Actually,” he brought his omni-tool display to life, “it's daytime for her now - if she's on Earth, that is.”

“Is she?”

“I don't know,” he admitted, aimlessly fiddling with his 'tool. 

“Any chance you can sleep another hour?”

“Not really.” 

Solana sighed, nodded. 

“Ok. Shower then, and work. I’m first to shower. You make breakfast.” 

“With our quarian supplies, I can make breakfast 17 times while you shower.”

“Please don't. Write EDI a message then. Ask when she can talk.” Garrus stood there dumbfounded, unable to understand how he had not thought of that himself. 

“Right. Right. And then breakfast.” His fingertips were flying over the omni-tool before Solana even entered the shower. The call came as she was leaving it six and a half minutes later, and Garrus was picking through the quarian paste tubes to accompany their not-yet-morning coffee. 

“Garrus,” EDI’s holographic image greeted him with a warm smile he almost got used to seeing on her face. “It’s good to see you. How can I help?” 

***

He should have anticipated it really - EDI’s newfound ability to experience and express emotions did not mean her efficiency decreased in the least. He also supposed she called him practically immediately because she was not busy with anything else at the time, but Sol - after he had introduced the two women - mentioned that it was clear EDI saw herself as his true friend, and was happy to provide any assistance she could. For some reason it made Garrus feel confused, almost uncomfortable for a moment to think others cared for him that much. He cared too, though. And he would definitely help if they asked. He sighed. It was a risky business getting close to people for fear of losing them. For fear of not being able to save and protect them. He shook his head at Sol’s repeated question. 

“Yeah. I’ll send it over right away.” Her 'tool pinged with the received data as the two were working on the terminals at an air purification system building site. 

“Your heart isn't really in work today, is it?” 

“Sorry, I’m just still surprised about the news from EDI. Never thought she’d actually work for the Systems Alliance.”

“An outside expert means the freedom to leave whenever she wants, doesn't it? Besides, it makes sense she’d want to stay close to Joker.” Solana remembered everything he had told her exceptionally well, Garrus noted. 

“Of course. I can definitely understand that.” He got locked in his grief entwined with hope for a moment, and suddenly felt Sol’s gloved hand land on his arm. 

“Hey. You are already doing something.” He nodded. “A first non-human _and_ synthetic to receive a commission though certainly is impressive.”

“First synthetic - yes. Not the first non-human though,” Garrus corrected with a hint of a chuckle. Solana paused in her calculations, switched the screen to edit her code, and only then faced him.

“Are you kidding me? You have a human military rank?”

“Just an honorary one. More for ceremonies than issuing actual orders. The troops don’t have to obey them from an honorary general.” Solana’s single brow plate lifted in an expression that was so similar to Shepard’s when she was just about to poke fun at him. His sister though, held her breath and apparently changed her mind. 

“I somehow think they would definitely obey.” Garrus felt momentarily at a loss for a response. 

“Anyway, EDI’s already sent me a heads up on her search. She believes she’ll learn Harbinger's location within the day max.”

“Wow, with the current miserable state of the extranet and the comms that's impressive.”

“Yeah. She has both skill and resources,” Garrus smirked, but his mandibles immediately tightened as his quite high for lately spirits fell. “And then it's hoping he isn't in dark space. Or in most parts of the galaxy for that matter. With so few mass relays operational, I won't be able to get to him unless he…”

“Garrus.” She sounded all grown-up big sister on him now. “Enough with the pessimism. Wait to hear from her first, then make a plan of action.” 

“You… sounded almost like Father there for a moment. That was actually scary.” She made a fleeting rude gesture, managing to coax a weak laugh from him. “Now of that Father would never approve.”  


***

Garrus stood in front of the door to the Primarch’s quarters. The low level of formality between the two meant he had visited his apartment times before - still, never uninvited. And never with a favour to ask. 

He kept shifting his weight from one leg to the other, trying to put together the best wording for his request. He hated words now. He was so close to a possibility of action, he could not find it in himself to care for diplomacy and cunning. His omni-tool beeped. 

“Sol?”

“Hey, didn't I see you come into the building like 15 minutes ago? Are you gonna eat?”

“Yeah, I’m upstairs,” Garrus said quietly, feeling like a scout who utterly failed at sneaking and disguise. “Need to talk to Victus.”

“Oh.” Something in his voice must have given away the gravity of the topic to be discussed. She asked no questions. 

Unlike Victus, who had just opened the door in Garrus’ face. 

“What about?” 

While Garrus froze in the awkwardness of this worst possible timing, Solana broke the silence. 

“I apologise for the interruption, Primarch. See you later, Garrus.” 

“Garrus, why doesn't your sister join us? Unless what you want to discuss is private, of course.” Victus gestured for him to get inside, and Garrus finally found his bearings - and his voice. 

“It _is_ private. But my sister’s presence is in fact desirable.” 

“Problem solved then. Come up, please, Solana. I’ll get us all a drink.” Garrus knew logically it made sense for Victus to address his sister by her first name, seeing that another Vakarian was standing right next to him, but a part of him still felt rebellious and offended at the tone their leader seemed to take with Sol. 

“Right away, Primarch.” At least she remained fully professional and formal, Garrus relaxed a little. He had already taken a sip of the triple-filtered brandy - a rare treat these days - by the time Solana joined them, taking a seat on the couch next to Garrus opposite Victus’ armchair. 

“I’ll get straight to the point,” Garrus started after another swallow which left a pleasantly burning trail down his throat. “I need a favour - it's gonna be the first one I’ve ever asked of you, but it might just be big.” Primarch set his glass on the plastic container which served as some semblance of a coffee table, interlaced his fingers. 

“I'm listening.”

“I - we - need to leave, for a while. There's something I need to do on Earth…” At this Solana turned an astonished face towards him. He probably should have spoken to her about this first, but EDI’s missive spurred him to immediate action - which in all honesty consisted of shuffling from to foot in front of Victus’ doors. Damn. “First, and then I need to travel for a bit across the galaxy. So…” This did not really sound valid, Garrus realised with a pang of terror. He knew he would just go even if he never got leave from Primarch, but he was loath to lose his trust, to ruin their camaraderie. 

“Garrus,” Sol briefly brushed her hand against his arm. “May I?” He met her gaze, knew she saw and understood his struggle, and nodded wordlessly. 

“Primarch, the leave my brother is asking for is to deal with a matter of utmost personal importance to him. It concerns someone you have met as well, someone even you personally owe not only respect, but gratitude.” Garrus gaped at his sister in complete shock, for both - her decision to disclose what this was all about (although he knew he would tell Victus eventually), and the audacity of her claim (however true it was). It took less than a moment for Victus to catch on as he leaned forward with evident interest. 

“Is it true, Garrus? There is news of… Shepard's… fate?”

“Not exactly. But I think I have a lead.” With vague amusement, Garrus noticed a glimpse of his old C-Sec officer self. “That I must check,” he added, as if it explained the entirety of the matter. 

“I understand,” Primarch nodded slowly, and reached for the bottle to refill his own and Garrus’ glass, Solana’s still being half full. “Of course you must go. But you must understand I can't have you both leave. I don't need to remind you of the amount and the importance of the work we do here.” Garrus waited with bated breath for the verdict. Which instead of the Primarch came from Solana. 

“That's fine. I’ll stay. I'm not aiming to replace him, but I'm sure Garrus can fill me in on enough of his projects and responsibilities I could satisfactorily fulfil in his absence.” 

“Agreed,” Victus nodded again. Garrus felt he had to be angry at others for deciding it all without his input, but realised there was nothing to it really. It was the best course of action. He regretted the loss of Sol’s support and the anticipation he only just realised he had been building about going on this mission together. But she truly was needed here. “I’m afraid I can't spare much resources for your journey, Garrus.”

“You don't need to.” Garrus waved him off, overtaken by the urge to act, to move, to get answers, to get… to her. He hoped against all hope he might actually see her again. “I’ll catch a cargo ship or a Transporter to Earth, and take care of further travelling arrangements from there. Thank you, Adrien,” he looked the older man in the eyes, his undertones displaying his gratitude clearly, and extended his hand. Primarch shook it. 

“May spirits bring you luck, Garrus.”


	8. Chapter 8

For a moment, the code, utterly ignoring the thorough debugging process and blinking its annoyingly inevitable presence of a score of new bugs, swam on the terminal screen. Garrus flicked his good old visor away from his face and rubbed at his eyes. Then raked his fingers roughly over his forehead plates and up through the crest, suddenly surprised by the ungloved talons. Despite years and years of working in multispecies crews, and being honestly used to and not at all bothered by keeping the sharp points covered, there was a certain freedom in being among only other turians. It was not a perfect situation, and far from his first choice, but it gave a sort of brief and vague relief not to mind who he was. He glanced around, and spotting no engineers or workers close enough to hear, took a hard, laboured sigh that his subvocals coloured with a plethora of emotions, which he would never have allowed himself in the presence of others. Well, maybe in Sol’s presence: their steadily deepening relationship, full of easy sibling poking fun at each other, as well as genuine understanding, care, and support, still somewhat baffled him, making him ever grateful and - he guiltily admitted to himself - even a little happy. 

Right now, his sigh was not so much the result of tiredness - although that was undoubtedly present despite the new, nanite-boosted capabilities of body and mind - but his focus was currently too far from the rebuilding efforts on Palaven. He could not get away from the nagging dread of it: he was going back to Earth again, and soon. But at least this time he knew not to expect to find _her_ there, or anywhere near it. That's right, that was a good way to think of it, he decided as he realised he was pacing the narrow platform of the completed level of the air purification site which was coming along nicely. _This time, Earth will be just a starting point, not the destination._ He swallowed hard, fists suddenly and painfully clenched - just like his jaws. If he would ever reach his destination. If it would turn to anything more than what it was now - a fevered dream. A desperate, heart-clenching desire to believe she really might be alive - and calling for him. 

It would be mere hours since that inner struggle that Garrus Vakarian would receive the communication from EDI: _Gained initial contact, further negotiations under way. Come as soon as you can._ This sounded like an EDI of old, efficient and to the point, and the missive felt simultaneously promising and terrifying. It could mean anything. Then, seconds later, another ping announced one more message from her: _I have a plan. Nothing’s definitive yet, but we’ll figure it out, Garrus._ Now this felt like that new thing she had learnt so seamlessly and naturally to do - a reassuring squeeze of an arm, paired with a hint of a smile and a look which said she understood, and was there for you. Garrus shuddered out a breath. It was time then. 

***

He was glad he ended up travelling on a cargo ship. Not that a Transporter would have been a major problem, but still. Right now, when he was preparing - was he? could he even prepare for that in any way? - to meet the oldest and most powerful of all Reapers, the once-arch enemy, and ask it for information, for assistance, basically ask him to do the impossible - give him back hope that Shepard could return to him alive - Garrus felt he would prefer not to fly to Earth on a sort of an ex-Reaper. Not because of all the highly charged history, on the contrary - because of the new state of affairs. In which Transporters were the few examples of machines which had not benefited from the Synthesis. Lacking sentience back when they had been controlled by the Reapers to transport the husks, they had gained none of the understanding of organics, none of their sensitivities, none of what could make them truly alive. So they remained just that - mere transport. It somehow did not sit right with Garrus, but he cared not for digging deeper into the matter right then. 

In the cramped space of the cargo ship crowded with both people and actual cargo - although lots were in fact empty containers on their way to be packed with preciously necessary resources to rebuild Palaven - Garrus tried to occupy himself with work. As many last-minute reports, records and instructions forwarded to Sol, Adrien, and a handful of other senior engineers, as he could manage. So much so that in the middle of him typing “Oh and Sol, another thing about that finicky pump, I figured you could try switching…” his omnitool pinged in a seemingly indignant manner, announcing a pending vid link. 

“Brother,” Sol’s brow plates were furrowed together in just the way they had been years ago, when eager little Garrus had tried to insert himself into the military drill game she had been playing with her older friends. “Lay off this. I have it under control. We,” she paused, placing a meaningful stress on the word, “have it under control. Adrien has already held a meeting about it today, and the work's being done. So forget about it. I won't try telling you to relax, little brother,” her voice softened, “but don't think about work now. You have a different quest at hand. Think of that.” Garrus remained quiet throughout her monologue, but listened intently. “But only think of the practical details, ok? Like we talked about. Leave the big picture for now. Small steps can bring no less sure footing than grand strides.” He exhaled loudly, pushed his head back to rest against the wall, and felt a bit of the weight, a bit of the tension leave his squared shoulders. 

“When did you get so wise, sis?” the younger Vakarian chuckled with a tired twist of his mandible. “And when did you start calling him Adrien?” Now his both mandibles clicked in a smirk, openly demonstrating his purposefully annoying brotherly picking, but hiding a slight apprehension at the way the events seemed to be developing. He felt a wave of protectiveness towards his sister, even from someone who was his highest possible superior, his once brother-in-arms and now colleague, amd probably even his friend. 

“Huh,” Solana replied with a rude gesture. It was surprising how often she resorted to those. Or was it just with him? “Adrien and I,” she could not have stressed his name more, “are working quite well together. And having a drink afterwards.” She beamed at him in an obvious challenge. Garrus cleared his dried up throat in an attempt to rein in his undertones.

“Are you… I mean, seriously? A drink like…?” He felt like a dumb teenager unable to articulate his concerns. He exhaled fast, just like humans do before having a shot of a strong liquor. “Are you attracted to him, Sol? Do you realise he’s the Primarch?” 

“A definite “yes” to your second question, little brother,” she replied condescendingly, “and “probably” to your first. Don't worry, I can take care of myself. And I’m sure, knowing you and your indispensability, our Primarch would not risk offending your only yet favourite sister,” she grinned. 

“Ok,” Garrus squeezed the word out with effort. “I sure as hell hope he’ll be good to you. And that… whatever happens between the two of you - whatever highly unturian and unhierarchical thing,” he taunted, “won't get in the way of your work.”

“And look who's all turian there all of a sudden,” Solana laughed mirthfully. “Good luck, Garrus. Take care, and let me know how it goes, ok?” He nodded. “I have a good feeling about it.” Her last sentence, despite carrying zero factual basis, somehow made him feel a little better, a little less tensed up in a tight ball of dread jumbled up with bits of hope sticking out at odd angles. He sighed.

“Thanks, Sol. Talk later.”

***

Thinking of the details of this search - and Spirits, please, rescue too - operation, turned out harder than even Garrus himself had anticipated. He made diligent attempts at directing his focus to what he knew - but that was too little to occupy his thoughts for any significant amount of time without dragging him off into the how's and why’s and what if’s. So he tried concentrating on what Solana had advised: small steps, tiny bits of the irregular and infuriatingly vague pattern of their current plan. At least the first leg of his journey would be complete soon; and luckily - he honestly admitted to himself - this time he was not going to London. 

The Systems Alliance still had a large base there, and from what Garrus had heard and had even made himself see in a few news vids, the city was now in a much better state. But the history, the baggage, were too raw still. So he was glad he was on his way to another major Alliance Earth base, on an entirely different spot of the planet's surface. 

This coastal metropolis had suffered major damage during the Reaper War as well, and it had been the place of Shepard's “house arrest” besides, as well as the place she had left to collect her team for the last time, to fight the biggest threat to the then-world. Then again, Garrus had already realised that there was very little space in the Galaxy that he could not tie to Shepard in one way or another. She was as if omnipresent - and, Spirits, so omniabsent. But today, as the cargo ship was approaching landing - not nearly gliding as smoothly as Normandy would, he noted absentmindedly - Garrus looked through the tiny viewport and actually marvelled at the sweeping curves of the bridges and layered avenues, sky trains and sky cars making their orderly way among the monolithic high-rises; but also the beauty of the mountains and the islands and inlets softening the clean urban look of Vancouver. The damage was still visible - the Builder Reapers were at work there as in most other important centres of civilisation, but here it felt like it was just development, construction rather than reconstruction. And the feeling persisted once Garrus’ feet touched the ground of this human city for the first time. 

In different circumstances he would have enjoyed a tour around the place, but now was not the time, of course. Now he needed to catch the fast-transit system to get to… well, however unexpected it sounded, EDI and Joker’s flat. He was surprised when she had forwarded him the map and directions that they were not stationed in some equivalent of Alliance barracks, but apparently the human military not only valued the contribution of the pair enough, but could also afford to recognise it now by allocating them separate living quarters. After all, both Joker and EDI were recognised as war heroes, and both continued to be the Alliance members of considerable value thanks to their near unique experience and a set of skills. Garrus suspected their accommodation was EDI’s achievement more than Joker's, but the pair - the couple, he corrected himself, - surely deserved it. He was even more convinced of that with the opening of the door to their flat - identical to many others in the high-rise block, but made different and special by the disarmingly open and friendly smile - which definitely touched her eyes - of one of its two occupants. 

“Garrus!” EDI broke his confused stupor as he stared at her silvery, metallic-green eyes uncovered by a previously ever-present visor, with a hug. He recovered quickly enough to wrap his own arms around her briefly and awkwardly, but felt soothed by this genuine gesture of warmth and friendship. “You found us ok?” He nodded. 

“Your instructions were top-notch, as always,” he flicked a mandible in an approximation of a somewhat shy smile. 

“Come in, please,” she urged him inside with a tug on his arm, making Garrus wonder if it was just with him as an old friend and comrade-in-arms, or she had become generally way more… tactile with everyone than before. “Jeff!” she called along a narrow corridor, “Garrus is here!” 

It had always been a little weird to hear her address Joker by his actual name, but now Garrus felt a kind of true and gentle intimacy in it which made him feel glad for his friends - although he had to acknowledge the brief but ungainly pang of envy as well. 

“Joker,” Garrus’ mandibles clicked in an equivalent of a broad human smile, “looking good.” The human man shook his offered hand, then pulled him closer for a shoulder bump, grinning all the while. “A new exo?” Garrus asked, already impressed by the pilot's easier than ever gate, and now the physical strength of his greeting. 

“Yes and no.” Joker motioned towards a relatively small but comfortably furnished room with a couch and a couple armchairs nesting around a low coffee table filled with datapads along with bowls of nuts and tiny biscuits, as well as objects which looked vaguely familiar to Garrus as some kinds of antique human digital carriers. As the men made themselves comfortable, Joker explained.

“I did get a new exo, but it's more than that this time. Who’d think it, but these green little buggers,” he waved his exposed forearm with ever rolled-up sleeves, “seem to be doing some magic of their own as well. EDI thinks it might come to the complete cure of Vrolik syndrome,” he scratched his beard, looking halfway between hopeful and guilty, “but I dunno. Will see. I mean it's better already. Not that I am entirely ready to kick ass at hand-to-hand yet, but you know, depends on the opponent,” he grinned, as if still uncertain how to feel about his improving luck. 

“That's great, Joker. I'm really happy for you.” _And EDI,_ Garrus thought suddenly, unexpectedly, but did not say aloud, _she deserves to be held by strong arms._ The thought rattled him with the keeningly longing memories of Jane, his Jane in his arms, her ribs prominent under his fingers, leading up to the - fascinatingly - simultaneously soft but firm and bouncy breasts, and down to her waist, not as narrow as those of turian females, but perfectly proportional, with her tightly shaped abs and... and… It came as a relief when EDI appeared carrying another couple of bowls of snacks - this time of the dextro variety, and asked for Garrus' preference for a drink. It felt so casual, so unreal, as if life was just normal, and he was simply visiting a home of a couple who were his close friends, and who happened to be good hosts at that. Maybe that was exactly what it was. With the exception of _his_ life being normal that is.

They asked about it, and were genuinely happy about those parts he chose to reveal - the success of returning Palaven to its habitable state in the foreseeable future, and his reunion with Solana. Garrus, feeling itchy under his plates to the extent of wanting to scratch himself bloody-blue with impatience and anxiety, pulled at the collar of his utterly unremarkable civvies, and asked in return how Joker and EDI’s lives were coming along. It relieved him - despite the prick of guilt for being selfish - that their answers had more to do with his own current objective in fact than with the couple themselves. 

Garrus already knew that with Vega off to Rio for his N7 training Engineer Adams had been serving as Normandy’s XO, with Joker remaining its unchanging - and even completely uninterrupted - pilot. First, at the beginning of this “new life” about a year ago, from time to time Garrus had been invited to join a mission or other with its current tiny, almost skeleton crew - but he unfailingly refused. He had told both the crew and himself it was because he was too busy groundside wherever he was: on Palaven in its then state of near utter devastation, or on Earth doing both diplomatic and procurement jobs for Victus. He had never admitted to anyone he lacked the strength to step onto the Shepardless Normandy - but he believed everyone knew it anyway. It surprised him Javik took part in some expeditions - but then again, what was a 50,000-year-old and the only living Prothean to do with his life but to offer his services in the building of the new world now that his plan of wreaking vengeance was no longer amenable? And things were in fact new. Garrus wondered and marvelled at times at this emerging bond between the synthetics and organics that he witnessed. Spirits, he was looking at the proof of it right in front of him: once just an AI, although quite an exceptional one, but now someone - although still synthetic by origin - he could not refer to any differently but a person, a woman, was leaning no less than lovingly and habitually on her human boyfriend's shoulder. 

“Anyway, James should be back in a couple of days, and - I hope you don't mind,” EDI blinked unnecessarily for herself but so naturally, “I’ve already asked him if he was up to a special kind of run.” She picked a shelled peanut from the bowl and rolled it between her fingers, clearly uncertain of his reaction to her news. “With you,” she added meaningfully, as if it explained it all - and in fact it really kind of did, “but I gave him no details at all, or explanation. He agreed anyway.” Garrus nodded his head several times, as if trying to reach a consensus with himself, and finally remembered to make a verbal confirmation. 

“Thanks, EDI. That's great news. I didn't expect it would - it could - be Normandy… And… well, you couldn't really give Vega an explanation, could you? I never gave you one - the one that was meaningful in any way.” Garrus’ visor flashed red at him, unhappy with his elevated vitals now that he was firmly back in the territory of hopeful dread. He rubbed an arm against the back of his neck, then up below the crest. Sighed deeply. Took his suddenly refilled glass of brandy and emptied it, nodding to Joker in gratitude. “I told you I had a hunch that Reapers of the higher class - especially the Harbinger - might have information about Shepard… Shepard's fate. In truth, and I'm sorry I’m telling you this now, and I will of course understand if you pull out of this crazy venture and don't want to have anything to do with me in the future, but this hunch is not based on any facts whatsoever.” He finally looked up from his gloved talons tapping on the empty again glass, and into his friends’ faces. “I dream of her. And the dreams repeat, sometimes almost exactly, sometimes with variations but only logical ones. She's alive in those dreams, and she's changed, like we're all now, and there are always Reapers. That's… hard to explain, I mean it's not - my grief-fuelled dreams are all I have to go for, but they just… they seem too real. Too sensible and possible.” He wondered how much of his nearly keening now subvocals EDI understood. “I have to try. I owe it to her.” Joker leaned in closer, his leg remaining in contact with EDI’s.

“That's enough for us. We’re both key parts of the Normandy crew anyway, so I wouldn't let anyone else pilot the girl - especially on a Shepard-finding mission,” he grinned cheekily, as if it was a sure thing, a done deal. Garrus swallowed with a dry, scratchy throat. 

“Look. I don't know how to thank you for this. But also, you must know before you agree that I myself am not sure what we're going… wherever we’re going for - might well be nothing at all. Nothing but the imaginings of my damaged psyche.”

“It's worth trying,” Joker shrugged, prising the peanut from EDI's fingers and popping it into his mouth. “It’s for Shepard.” He threw a whole handful of nuts into his mouth and added while still chewing, “and for you too. You know, you're kinda way more tolerable ever since you worked that stick out of your ass.” Garrus laughed, and hoped that the insufficient movements of his facial plates transmitted his endless gratitude to these people clearly enough without him having to say it all. All three took glasses Joker filled with the fragrant amber alcohol again and clinked them in the human tradition. Even EDI touched the liquid to her lips. 

“To Shepard,” she said with a warm and confident smile.” 

***

Joker and EDI forbade him from checking into a hotel of any sort claiming they had a spare room, and it would be better - more practical, they had said, although Garrus suspected they worried about his mental state if left alone - to stick together. Although the room he was assigned was in fact the lounge they had spent hours drinking and talking in before, EDI winked when Garrus rubbed his neck indecisively looking at the couch definitely not meant for turian anatomy. She promptly brought out a hammock which Joker helped her hang on the securely installed hooks on two adjoining walls, making up an almost cosy sleeping place in the corner of the room. Garrus could not be sure they had in fact made these preparations specifically for him, but was impressed - and almost overwhelmingly grateful nonetheless. Not that sleep came easily. Then again, he did not really expect it to. Now that he was at least in some way getting closer - if not to Shepard herself yet than to at least some information about Harbinger - he was afraid to sleep. Afraid he would miss the second EDI would wake him up with any news on his location as she had promised. Afraid he would not dream of Jane if he slept. Afraid he would dream of her but the dream would be different: where there would be no Reapers, where he would not be finding her, or where she would not be alive. 

It came as a surprise then that he awoke from the continuous buzz of his omnitool signalling someone had been trying to establish a vid link with him for some time now. He sat straight, barely avoiding falling out of the hammock - and blaming the alcohol for both his eventual sleepiness and clumsiness - and tapped the connect button. 

“Scars,” a visibly burly man, even though only his neck was currently in view, greeted with a tired grin, “didn't expect I’d still be able to call you that. With all the little green friends running around your weird dinosaur body one would think you’d take a small step of fixing that ugly face of yours.” 

“Well,” Garrus drawled a reply, his bad mandible pulling aside in a smirk, “I guess I think some mementos of old heroics - or foolhardiness - are worth keeping.” He would not admit he had refused an easy fix to that scar because it was a visible and tangible reminder of that day on Omega. Not the day when had taken a bloody rocket to his face, but the day he had learnt that Shepard, after having both frozen and burnt to death in space, had been alive after all. He swallowed before his next remark. “I see your neck has continued to defy all human physiology. Was that Reaper technology that's made it even thicker?” The human man laughed and lowered the camera a fraction to include a bit of his massive shoulders - more just did not fit. 

“This training isn't for little babies after all.” Even the small part of the man’s upper torso revealed something that made Garrus’ heart clench for a moment: the N7 armour with the familiar insignia of one thin bar between two 1-centimeter thick ones. It was the equivalent of Shepard's rank of lieutenant commander when Garrus had first met her. And that had always been her favourite armour. Had looked great on her too. The same as her beloved civvies with the N7 insignia he had taken off her so many times… 

“I see,” Garrus drew the words out, quickly bringing himself back from the memories of both the brightest light and the darkest void of his life. “Congrats on your promotion. Although even with a “Major” in front of it Jimmy Vega still sounds like a pole-dancer on Omega.” James boomed a laugh and shook his head.

“It’s good to see you again, man. I'm actually calling to say you’ll have the pleasure to meet the famous loco in person in two days. I'm on my way to Earth.”

“Weren't you in Rio?”

“That part was over about a month ago, so they had me take on a… sort of a new recruit mission. Unknown crew, unfamiliar ship, classified location, you know, the shenanigans. But I’ll be officially taking over the Normandy once I’m back, and then the old girl and myself are at your disposal.”

“Will you…” Garrus wondered how to phrase the question, “will you be able to combine this… venture with some Alliance mission?” 

“Not combine,” Vega shook his head, the now several dog tags - more than Garrus had remembered - hanging from a chain around his neck twinkling, “I got an official leave. Will have to work it off later, but I only dropped tiny bits of intel saying it had something to do with a few of the most prominent and valued Reaper war heroes.” Garrus opened his mouth just as his brow plates switched several times between furrowing and climbing up his forehead. James lifted his hand, palm facing Garrus. “Don't sweat it. I never mentioned Shepard.” Garrus nodded, letting out a relieved sigh hidden from the cam. He was not sure when he looked up at the holo of Vega again, but he thought he noticed a glimpse of the man’s old badge commemorating the SSV Normandy. “By the way,” Vega continued after a pause, probably guessing Garrus needed a moment, “I only know the almost nothing EDI told me - which isn't a problem, I’m in it whatever it turns out to be - but I was thinking, do you want to try and tag along any other old team members?”

“Not really. I haven't been in touch with most of them too regularly lately, but from what I know most are busy. Don't want to disrupt whatever important work they're doing.” Garrus knew his explanation sounded weak and somewhat lame, as humans would put it. The proof of that came in the form of James’ sceptical expression and huge arms crossed over his chest. Garrus sighed defeatedly. “Ok. I just don't want anyone else along. EDI and Joker are coming, and you - obviously. I might have wanted to ask Wrex and Tali to join, but… not for this one. The fewer people take part or even witness whatever this turns out to be - the better.”

“Get it. Makes sense. You know, I wouldn't get that squishy with you tough guy in person, but I wanna tell you now - if it's at all possible, we’ll get her.” As Garrus’ throat started working uncontrollably, the scratching - both in his dry throat and the huge emptiness inside of him left by the missing Jane - unbearable, James spoke again. “And hey, Scars. Get some sleep. You look so ugly as hell Shepard might just change her mind and pick me after all.” Garrus laughed weakly, gratefully, jealously, and a little confidently. She was _his_ Jane. Just as he was ever - only - her Garrus Vakarian. 

“You haven't got a chance in hell, kid. See you soon.” He disconnected the link, threw himself back in the hammock, and fell asleep almost immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the very first thing I'm posting (and in fact I've written) after a long-suffering break. Real life events have not really been compatible with writing - or even wanting to write - for over 7 months, but although this piece is probably of a significantly inferior quality than before, I'm happy to be writing again. New updates won't be frequent, but at least I'm back in business. ;)   
> A big thanks to everyone reading: your attention, comments, and kudos are a huge motivation.   
> And yay - in the coming chapters Garrus is in for much better times! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'd be happy to get all and any feedback.


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